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Class l~" 3 

Book_ T?* °1 ^ ‘S’fa 

Copyright N° . _ 

COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 


































Romances 

OF 

The Rugged Road 

BY 

Henry B. Rutledge 



Author of Homely Stories of Human Interest; 
Thoughts and Themes in Verse; Ted 
O’Connor and Other Yarns 



TZ-5 

HT 


* 


•JUL 2« 1323 


©C1A752284 



v.o t/ 




To every dissatisfied galoot who is am¬ 
bitious enough to do better, this 
book is humbly dedicated by 
the author 









Contents 


Chapter 

I. The Dreamer Awakes. 

II. He Encounters Train Robbers. 

III. A New Start. 

IV. The Call of the Wild. 

V. The Trail Grows Rougher. 

VI. Unexpected Company. 

VII. The Cabin Tells a Story. 

VIII. Learning New Tricks. 

IX. Learning to Live. 

X. Jemima Decides to Wait. 

XI. A Hard Night’s Ride. 

XII. Dangity Becomes a Miner. 

XIII. Money Makes Friends. 

XIV. Towns With a History. 

XV. Good News From a Far Country. 

XVI. Two Busy Weeks. 

XVII. The Romance of the Sea. 

XVIII. Roped at Last. 

XIX. Rough Sailing. 

XX. Surprises For Everybody. 

XXI. The Skipper’s Knot Slips. 

XXII. All Things Come to Those Who Wait. 



Copyrighted by 
HENRY B. RUTLEDGE 
JULY 1923 
All Rights Reserved 


CHAPTER I 
The Dreamer Awakes 

It was a bright spring day, along in the early 
part of May, in a small New England town, that 
a tall, thin, rather gangling youth sat on an old 
wooden bench in front of the quaint old frame 
building that had done service as a hotel for as 
long as he could remember, and, in a limp, languor¬ 
ous condition, wandered off into day-dreams. 
Whether it was the balmy spring air or his own 
peculiar temperament that was responsible for his 
frame of mind, I am not prepared to say, but, 
whatever the cause, he found himself drifting into 
this condition very often, of late. 

He would lie around by the hour in this sleepy, 
indifferent mood, not seeming to care for what 
was going on around him, until those who knew 
him began to wonder whether or not he was 
losing his mind, and was in danger of being over¬ 
whelmed by a wave of melancholia. 

It is true that his life, up to this time, had not 
been a very promising one. After some struggle 
he had acquired, perhaps, the average amount of 
learning for a boy of his age, having, by dint of 
considerable coaxing on the part of his mother, 
managed to worm his way through the local high 
school, but, beyond the satisfaction he felt at hav¬ 
ing actually graduated, his accumulation of knowl¬ 
edge had apparently been of little benefit to him 


8 Romances of the Rugged Road 

when it came to the matter of obtaining a lucra¬ 
tive position. 

There were those who hinted that he lacked 
application, and that he was destined to be a 
ne'er-do-well, as had been his father before him; 
while others said boldly that it was nothing more 
or less than a genuine case of the “malazyium," a 
rather unpleasant though by no means fatal 
malady, the victim of which lives in mortal terror 
of real, genuine, old-fashioned hard work. 

There were some few, it is true, who admitted 
that he did possess some degree of talent along 
certain lines, and these conceded that under favor¬ 
able surroundings he might really “amount to 
something yet," as they tersely expressed it, al¬ 
though it required some stretch of the imagina¬ 
tion to actually admit this before company. 

How long he would have lain and dreamed in 
the warm sunlight would be hard to guess, had 
he not been aroused from his reverie by the voice 
of Mrs. Milligan, a plump, jolly-looking, middle- 
aged woman who poked her head out of the door 
and yelled, “Come on there Dangity, are you goin' 
to sleep there all day ? Don't you know it’s pritty 
nigh train time? Come on now!" 

“Train time! Jiminette, is it that late already?" 
he inquired anxiously, grabbing his cap, which 
had fallen off, and scrambling to his feet. 

“Late! Well I guess it is late; you better get a 
move on you now and git that bus down to that 
train. You know how them travelers kicks if you 
don’t hev the bus there waitin’ for them. Get a 
hustle on now, and don’t lose any time about it 
either," she continued to urge, while he hurried 


The Dreamer Awakes 9 

to the stables at the rear, where the horses were 
kept. 

Mrs. Milligan was the sole proprietress of the 
old hotel which provided accommodations for the 
few travelers who made Slowtown on their rounds, 
and she had employed Dangity to drive the bus 
which plied back and forth between it and the one 
lone depot of the small inland town. As she 
turned to go in she talked to herself about Dang¬ 
ity. “ Tears to me that boy is dreamin’ about 
something. He don’t earn his salt around here 
any more. He used to be the willingest boy I ever 
saw, but lately he’s just mopin’ around all day. 
Must have a girl, I reckon.” ^ 

In a few minutes the old bus drove out of the 
alley-way, and rattled off down the quiet street. 
Here and there a boy grinned at him in recogni¬ 
tion, and a couple of young girls peeked from be¬ 
hind their coat collars, while one of them even 
attempted a flirtatious wave of her hand, although 
both of them were still too shy to stare at him 
openly. Their attentions amused him a little, but, 
aside from these, he awakened no interest in the 
minds of the easy-going, satisfied citizens of the 
sleepy, stagnant, never-changing, respectable, 
quiescent old town. 

“Guess I’ll get out of this durn poky little rat’s 
tail of a town,” he grunted to himself as he 
straightened up on the seat, shrugged back his 
stooping shoulders, and tried to throw out his un¬ 
developed chest — an exercise he went through 
every time the consciousness of his stooping pos¬ 
ture asserted itself. 

“Blamed if I ain’t getting plumb disgusted with 
this everlastin’ sameness anyhow, and then a fel- 


10 Romances of the Rugged Road 

low like me hasn’t a ghost of a show in a rock- 
ribbed old settlement like this,” he concluded, as 
he cracked his long whip in an effort to instil some 
new life into the lazy old team. 

At the depot he picked up four or five passen¬ 
gers and they rattled back to the hotel, where the 
cheery Mrs. Milligan was waiting to greet them 
with her customary smile of welcome. “Lucky 
for you I woke that sleepy driver of yours up, or 
you might all have walked up today,” she beamed 
on them as Dangity piled their grips out on the 
sidewalk. 

“Sleepy! What’s the matter with him, has he 
got a girl?” several of them spoke up at once. 
“I dunno, but I think he hes, he just dreams 
around here all the time now,” she explained 
laughing. 

“Oh, that’s a sure sign he’s got the fever all 
right. When they get to moping around and 
dreaming all day, that’s a sure sign they’ve been 
hooked by some one,” a fat drummer spoke up 
with all the confidence of one who knows whereof 
he speaks. 

Dangity paid but little attention to their good- 
natured banter, but as soon as his day’s work was 
over he made a bee-line for home to see his best 
pal—his mother. When they were seated in the 
cheery kitchen of the modest little place they both 
called home, he startled her out of her seven 
senses by suddenly exclaiming, “What do you 
think, Mom ? I think I’ll get out of this poky old 
town and go somewhere else!” He blurted this 
out with an effort, all the while eyeing her with a 
sheepish boyish grin to see how she would take 
the news. 


The Dreamer Awakes 


11 


“Why, Dangity Fay, what do you mean ? If you 
aren't one of the foolishest boys I've ever seen, 
then my name isn’t Letisha Fay, and you’re not 
my own darling son,” she exclaimed passionately, 
as she turned her eyes upon him. 

“What ails you, child?” she went on. “Haven’t 
you got a nice place to work, and isn’t this old 
home good enough for you now since you’ve 
growed up, or are you ashamed of your old mother 
and the way we have to live?” 

“No, no, mother; I’m not ashamed of you or 
anything like that, but I’m not satisfied with the 
way things look around here,” he responded 
petulantly. 

“Well, I want to tell you, my boy, you’ll go 
farther and fare worse if you leave your happy 
home here,” she warned him tenderly, “and you 
won’t feel so proud when you have to ask strangers 
to help you, either, I can tell you!” 

“Oh no, mother, it isn’t because I’m too proud 
that I want to leave here, it’s because I know that 
I won’t ever amount to anything if I stick around 
this dead little place. Every one knows how poor 
we are, and you know very well that a person 
might about as well be dead as to be poor in a town 
like this. If we had plenty, or if father had been 
one of the big men of the place, folks might look 
up to us, but, as it is, no one gives us credit for 
knowing anything, and to tell the real truth, 
mother, I don’t care a snap of my fingers whether 
they do or not. I’ll show them all some day that 
we are just as good as they are, and I’m not such 
a blockhead even if we are poor,” he went on so 
calmly, and with such a correct summing up of 
conditions as they actually existed, that his 


12 Romances of the Rugged Road 

mother was compelled to admit that he had been 
doing some serious thinking along the line of their 
social standing in the community. Sometimes the 
young mind grasps a situation even quicker and 
clearer than an older one. 

“Why, Dangity child, what in the world’s cornin’ 
over you? You talk like you were coming down 
with a fever or somethin’; you better let me give 
you a good dose of sulphur and molasses before 
you go to bed, there’s nothin’ in the world like 
‘sulphur and molasses’ for spring fever,” she 
assured him very firmly, for although she knew 
he had spoken words of wisdom she did not deem 
it wise to let him think that she thought he had, 
for fear of making him vain; therefore she made 
as though there was something wrong with him 
physically tonight. 

But he was not to be so easily turned aside. In 
fact, she, as well as others, was to learn that he 
was rapidly leaving behind him the swaddling- 
clothes of babyhood and was swiftly coming to the 
full knowledge and stature of a man, as he replied 
a moment later, “No, no, mother; I’m not going to 
be sick, nor anything like that. I’m all right 
inside and never felt better in my life, but I am 
getting plumb sick and disgusted with trying to 
keep going and make a living here in this poky 
little dump where every one knows everybody else, 
and where there’s nothing to do but work in a 
store, or drive a bus, or spend your time hanging 
around hoping some fellow will die so’s you can 
get his place. No, mother; I like you and the 
kids, but there’s nothing here for me, and I know 
it,” he went on reflectively, while he crossed his 
legs and stared into the grate. 


The Dreamer Awakes 13 

His mother sat and eyed him several minutes 
in silence, and then she drew him to her and 
kissed him, something she had not done for many 
a day, and an act which caused him to blush with 
embarrassment. She was thinking of his father 
and of how like him Dangity was becoming. He 
had the same restless, independent spirit that 
caused his father to migrate constantly and 
which prevented him from receiving a favor from 
any one whom he could not repay in return. All 
of his faults and virtues seemed to be reincarnated 
in this, the eldest of their little family of five. 
She noted the same pathetic abandon in his spirit 
of resignation to the forces of circumstances; his 
willingness to make any venture which promised 
a change from the monotony of the ever present, 
and she hoped that he would be more successful 
in his choice of a profession than his father had 
been. 

To the rest of the townsfolk, Dangity Fay was 
just a big, awkward, overgrown, easygoing ‘‘kid” 
who had few opportunities and less promise than 
the average. In fact, his listless, indifferent 
manner had made him the butt of many a jibe and 
jest, and as a mark of their estimation of him he 
had been nicknamed a “Woolygoofus,” an appella¬ 
tion, by the way, which he bitterly detested. 

It was not that he lacked spirit, nor fire, in his 
make-up—not that; it was simply because he had 
met nothing as yet that aroused his nature, or 
stirred up the latent forces of his being. The 
usual escapades of a boy of his age had failed to 
interest him. Such acts as taking the wheels 
from the grocer’s wagon and then hauling it up 
to the peak of his barn, there to gaze benignly 


14 Romances of the Rugged Road 

down upon his irate form from its lofty perch in 
the morning, or the work of pulling the ice-man’s 
cabbages and carrying them across lots to be piled 
in the teacher’s doorway, failed to appeal to his 
sense of humor. In. other words, real manual 
labor in the guise of play found no slavish devotee 
in him. 

It is true he had been invited on more than one 
occasion to share in this form of sport, but to 
every entreaty he made but one reply, “The game 
isn’t worth the candle,” until the idea became 
prevalent that he was too lazy, or too much of a 
sissy, to engage in real sport. Nothing was 
farther from the truth, for, in spite of his appar¬ 
ently backward, timid disposition, he was really 
the possessor of a proud and heroic spirit, but, 
owing to the fact that nothing had arisen which 
had called it forth, it had laid all these years 
hidden and dormant. 

At that, it was not entirely unsuspected, for 
upon one or two occasions it had suddenly flared 
up when the boys accused him of being a “fraidie 
cat” or when they wanted him to join in a raid on 
the fruit-stand which stood outside so temptingly, 
in front of the grocer’s store. The way he bristled 
up to Ted Jackson sent the chills coursing up and 
down Ted’s spinal vertebrae, and caused him to 
“hunt for home” as fast as his short legs could 
carry him. After that they were a little more 
chary of calling him names. 

Owing to his overgrown, angular, uncouth 
appearance he was suspected of being older than 
he really was, and this, coupled with the rather 
rigid “caste” system so often prevailing in the 
staid old towns of the Atlantic seaboard as 


The Dreamer Awakes 


15 


between the rich and the poor, his poverty and the 
lowly position of his family, was a handicap that 
was not to be very easily overcome. I know there 
are many who will rise up and tell us that there 
are no such conditions, and that a poor untitled 
child has as strong a welcome and as many 
chances for success as a rich one, but I have lived 
long enough among the narrow, circumscribed 
limits of that district to know whereof I speak. 

As he grew older, the conscious knowledge of 
his family position caused him to become more 
and more backward and retiring. 

But, as I have said, although the community 
saw nothing in him, yet to his mother he was a 
big, strong, darling boy, of more than usual 
promise, and in truth her hope and pride. True, 
she saw through a mother's eyes, and a mother,. 
you know, can see virtues which no one else can, 
unless, perchance, she be like the mother of the 
great Duke of Wellington, who, it is said, saw 
nothing in him but the makings of a worthless 
loafer, and one who would make “good cannon 
fodder." But, thanks be to destiny, the Duke 
made cannon fodder of his enemies instead. 

After graduating from high school, Dangity had 
run the usual gamut of small-town jobs—first 
working in the drug store, then driving the 
grocer's cart, and finally being promoted to his 
present envious job, that of chief pilot of the little 
old bus that plied between the hotel and the depot. 
This was a position that at first seemed of greater 
importance to him than many better ones he 
received later, but that bus job certainly made 
some of the boys envious. He had nothing against 
the old town, absolutely nothing, as far as holding 


16 Romances of the Rugged Road 

it responsible for his lack of advancement; the 
opportunities simply weren’t there, and its limita¬ 
tions fretted and galled him. The greatest thing 
to be said in his favor was that he early saw those 
limitations, and promptly took steps to overcome 
them. To him progress was beset with unsur- 
mountable difficulties — imaginary difficulties, 
some will say—but they were, nevertheless, 
apparently real. 

“What does Jemima think about your going 
away, Dangity?” his mother asked a few evenings 
later, when he unfolded to her some of his plans 
for the future. 

“Jemima!” he exclaimed with marked surprise. 

“Yes, Jemima. Does she know you’re going 
away? I’m sure she’s more interested in you than 
any one else around here,” his mother went on, 
while she mended a stocking for one of the little 
brothers. 

“Why, mother, you’re only guessing now. What 
makes you think that Jemima cares anything 
about me going away?” he inquired eagerly, 
despite his efforts to appear unconcerned. 

“Well, I wan’t born yesterday, and I can tell 
when folks is interested and when they aren’t, and 
just the other day she was saying some nice 
things about you, and I suspect she cares more 
than she let on she did.” 

“Oh, mother, for goodness sake, have a heart; 
don’t fool me any more. It’s bad enough to think 
of leaving you and the youngsters, but for good¬ 
ness sake don’t tell me some one else is sorry to 
see me go,” he pleaded facetiously. 

“Well, you can take my advice for what it’s 
worth, you never would listen to me; but you 


The Dreamer Awakes 17 

better tell Jemima about your going, or there’ll be 
trouble for you.” 

His mother’s announcement really came as a 
surprise to him, although he had dared to think 
that the young lady mentioned had more than a 
passing interest in him. Still, he had no idea that 
any of the opposite sex had given very serious 
thought to what might happen to him, although 
he had cast .admiring eyes upon certain ones at 
times, glances which had caused a ripple of 
emotion to manifest itself in the region of his 
affections, but these he had as quickly repressed 
as being vain and uncalled for. It was useless to 
think that any one would be foolish enough to 
waste any admiration upon so unlikely looking a 
fellow as he. He had a few girl acquaintances, it 
is true, but most of these took their chief delight 
in making him feel awkward and ill at ease; 
although there was one who showed signs of 
friendliness towards him, and this one was 
Jemima. 

She teased him unmercifully at times, and asked 
him why it was that he wasn’t more friendly 
towards the girls, and warned him that some of 
them would catch him napping if he didn’t watch 
out. 

“No, sir; nobody will ever catch me, not if I 
know it. I’m not going to get tangled up in any 
girl stuff,” he stoutly insisted when she teased 
him about getting married one time. 

“Well now, you just wait until the right one 
comes along, and you’ll see how easy that will be,” 
she flung back at him one day when he was 
protesting his intentions of keeping clear. He 
was plainly embarrassed by her frankness, but he 


18 Romances of the Rugged Road 

vigorously maintained that nothing of the sort 
would ever overtake him, even though he blushed 
to the roots of his hair while doing so. “No; I’ve 
got my course in life all mapped out, and I know 
just exactly what I’m going to do, and nothing is 
going to interfere with my plans until I get 
through with them. You know I haven’t arrived 
yet—that is, I haven’t made my mark in the 
world—and until I do that I have determined to 
travel the trail alone.” 

“Why, Dangity, how you talk! A person would 
think you were going on a long journey some¬ 
where, to hear you talk about trails and arriving 
and so on,” Jemima exclaimed excitedly, after 
listening to him romancing one day. 

“Well, maybe I am going on a long journey,” he 
announced calmly. 

“No; you don’t say so! What in the world would 
you ever do away from home ? Why, you’ve never 
been outside of Slowtown, have you ?” she inquired 
rather half as though she were answering her own 
question. 

“That doesn’t matter; there always has to be a 
first time, and I’m going to leave here just as soon 
as mother can get my things ready for me, and I 
can tell you more than that, and that is, I’m not 
coming back either until I have made my fortune, 
too!” He spoke with such an air of finality that 
Jemima was compelled to stand and stare at him 
in order to assure herself that it was really 
Dangity who was speaking, his words were such a 
surprise to her. 

“Well, who’d a’ thought it! Look at me here, 
will you, until I see if you really mean what you 
say?” After a moment’s scrutiny she continued, 


The Dreamer Awakes 19 

“Yes, I guess you do mean it, but you talk so like 
a man I could hardly believe it was you!” 

“Of course I mean it; you don’t think I’m spin¬ 
ning a fairy tale do you?” 

“No, not that; but it is so seldom you make up 
your mind to anything, that I was wondering if it 
was made up this time. But then I know that if 
you do go you will make good somewhere, and 
you will grow to be a big smart man some day,” 
she went on, all the time staring at him out of a 
pair of big, clear eyes which betokened both inno¬ 
cence and admiration. 

For a time her generous commendation visibly 
affected him, but the arrival of the train gave him 
a chance to escape, and he willingly did so, for 
somehow her earnest, sympathetic gaze gave him 
a strange embarrassment which he had not felt 
before. 

The news that Dangity Fay was going away 
spread rapidly over the little town, and what a 
furore it created. Some laughed, some looked 
shocked, while others gave vent to expressions of 
sorrow over what, to their minds, was an impend¬ 
ing calamity, for already the wiseacres had a 
mental picture of him sneaking home by the back 
way some night when no one was looking— 
hungry, weary and bedraggled. In some instances 
the wish was father to the thought, although it 
must be said that, for the most part, Dangity had 
but few enemies. But it was hard for the little 
town to believe that Dangity Fay would ever 
amount to much, for, as I have said, they had him 
pegged for a shiftless ne’er-do-well, “like his 
father.” 

It was soon after this conversation with Jemima 


20 Romances of the Rugged Road 

at the depot that he was the center of a little 
group of inquisitive citizens who gathered around 
him as they waited for the evening mail in front 
of the village postoffice. 

“Well, Dangity, where are you going to any¬ 
how?” Willie Gold, a smooth, sleek, well groomed 
little fellow, asked in a quick, brusque manner, at 
which Dangity dug his toe into the gravel and 
looked embarrassed, as he replied timidly, “Oh, I 
don’t know; out west somewheres, I guess!” 

“Out west, eh! My, thet’s a pritty big place, 
isn’t it,” warned old Justice Frost, as he ran his 
fingers around the band of his soft collar in order 
to get more air, apparently, as he continued: 
“Out west, eh! Well, I swan! Do tell—it do beat 
all how these young critters never knows when 
they’s well off; no, sir, they ain’t satisfied with 
nothin’, they ain’t,” he concluded with an air of 
wisdom. 

“That’s jist it, jedge; when they gits as old as 
you and me, they’ll know somethin’, won’t they?” 
Louie Appleton, the village shoemaker, spoke up. 

“Yes, they will; or else they’ll know b’ that time 
thet they don’t know nothin’,” the old judge 
chuckled as he looked from one to the other, and 
went on, “We mustn’t be too hard on these young 
scallywags, though, because it’s an old saying thet 
‘you cain’t never tell be the looks of a frog how 
fer he’s agoin’ to jump,’ no sir, you cain’t never 
tell.” 

“Well, he’ll wisht many a time he’d stuck to the 
old home, I want to tell ya,” spoke up Rusty White, 
the village constable, as he rubbed the dust from 
his large tin star, and shrugged his shoulders. 
“Yaas, you bet,” spoke up another, “and he’ll 


The Dreamer Awakes 


21 


find that a half a loaf's better’n no bread, too, 
when he gits good ’nd hungry for some of his 
mammy’s cookin’, ’nd he’s away out there away 
from friends ’nd home.” 

“Well, Dangity’s a good walker, he can always 
get home when he has to,” Willie Gold put in 
again, as he stood trimming his pink finger nails 
with the dainty little mother-of-pearl handled 
knife which he was wont to show off when folks 
were around. 

Surely the anvil chorus were in high fettle, for 
each qne added his note to the wail of the 
miserere which they were all chanting tonight. 
Their pessimism somehow got on Dangity’s 
nerves, and after listening to the doleful fore¬ 
bodings of evil as long as he could he broke out 
with a rejoinder which almost took their breath 
away as he exclaimed, “You folks don’t need to 
worry about me, I’ll take care of myself, and if I 
don’t make good nobody is going to blame you for 
it, and anyhow I’d rather starve trying to do 
something than try to live in a dead, poky place 
like this!” 

“Landsakes!” several gasped at once, “that 
boy sure is gettin’ big feelin’, ain’t he?” 

“He’ll be back, he’ll be back,” Willie assured 
them as the mail came in and each one lined up 
before the window. 

Thus Dangity became the latest object of 
interest in the minds of the simple folk who were 
often at a loss for something to talk about. A 
few encouraged him, and said they admired his 
pluck and “gumption” in having sense enough to 
get out and look for something better than the old 
town could give, but to most of them his venture 


22 Romances of the Rugged Road 

must surely end in disaster, because he wasn’t the 
right kind of a fellow to undertake a thing like 
that. Better be contented, as one expressed it, 
with a “half a loaf” than to run chances on having 
no bread; but they were yet to learn that Dangity 
Fay had more spirit than they thought he had. 
The pastor of the small local church, strange to 
say, really encouraged him in his venture. While 
he was now serving in this little out-of-the-way 
community, he had at one time been a man of the 
world, and had rubbed shoulders with real men in 
his day, and to him there was still a lot of fascina¬ 
tion in the call of the wild; so he was one of the 
few who urged Dangity to go. 

“Go ahead, my boy, I’m glad to see you striking 
out for yourself, it will do you good,” he exclaimed 
fervently as he sat and talked with the little 
family on the porch of their humble but well kept 
home, one evening. “You know the old Book says 
that ‘time and chance happeneth to all,’ and again 
in another place it says, ‘Who can tell which shall 
prosper, either this or that?’ and that means we 
must take a chance no matter what we do, even 
the surest things are fraught with a great deal of 
risk. The farmer who depends upon the rain is 
taking a big chance on his crops.” 

“Well, Mr. Taylor, I’m glad to hear you speak 
this way, because everybody is predicting such a 
miserable failure for Dangity that it almost makes 
me sick every time I think of his going away,” 
Mrs. Fay spoke up when she heard the ^encour¬ 
aging words of the preacher. “Don’t worry about 
failure, Dangity; this may be your time and your 
chance, who knows?” he exclaimed cheerily, 
waving them a farewell from the street. 


The Dreamer Awakes 


23 


While it is true that Dangity had made up his 
mind to go “out west,” still he hadn’t the slightest 
idea where that might mean, for, as the old Judge 
had said, “out west is a pritty big place,” and he 
was not at all certain as to just where he might 
go, and, aside from the fact that it meant some¬ 
where away from the present and a change, he 
had no clear ideas on the matter. It might mean 
fame and fortune, or, on the other hand, it might 
mean failure and disappointment; but, whatever 
the outcome, he was willing to make the venture, 
and in this he showed that he already possessed 
some of the elements that go to make men great. 

Who knows what is in a youth? No one; for, 
if it is true that “one cannot tell by the looks of a 
frog how far he is going to jump,” no more can 
one tell by the looks of a boy what sort of a man 
he’ll make. There are those who think they can, 
but how often, just as they have arrived at a con¬ 
clusion, something comes along which upsets their 
whole line of reasoning. The big, husky bully 
goes to selling ribbons in a department store; the 
timid backward “Kid” joins the army or gets a 
medal for bravery; the tough guy becomes the 
village preacher; and the dunce surprises us all 
by inventing an aeroplane or a new corn husker 
and thus gets his name in the Hall of Fame. 

To his mother, Dangity’s going meant mingled 
pride land sorrow. With loving care she had 
watched over him ever since the day the old 
family doctor had brought him as the firstborn to 
grace their humble home. He had been with her 
through those early days of hope and struggle 
when the young couple were trying to steer their 
frail barque across the rough and unknown seas 


24 Romances of the Rugged Road 

of matrimony, and the young father was so sure 
that he would be able to make a success of every 
venture he went into, but, alas, it only meant a 
more disastrous failure than before. Yes, since 
his father had succumbed to the strain of con¬ 
tinual disappointment, all her hopes had been 
wrapped up in Dangity, and she was proud to 
think that he was ambitious enough to try for 
something better than the unfriendly old town 
had to offer, yet apprehensive that his venture 
would end in the same dismal failure which had 
marked so many of his father’s endeavors. 

So as the day of his departure neared she bent 
every effort to provide whatever she could for his 
comfort; not much, it is true, as comforts go, but 
some little necessaries which might be of service 
to him. He, in turn, became the admired of all 
admirers. There was already the air of romance 
and mystery about him—the boy who was to leave 
home and blaze his own path in the world. Even 
the girls who had hitherto passed him up, now 
began to take such an interest in him that his 
rivals were already jealous of his new popularity. 
He also noticed that both Willie Gold and Ted 
Strong, who were both over fond of Jemima, 
frowned upon her attentions to him in a way that 
left no doubt in his mind as to what they thought 
of him. Ted Strong had always been a bully to 
Dangity, knocking him around at will, and making 
life miserable for him in general, and Dangity at 
the same time knew that Ted was his master, so 
he always gave him the right of way. Now that 
Jemima was foolish enough to take notice of 
Dangity, only made Ted despise him the more. 
But, because the folks were expecting so much 


The Dreamer Awakes 


25 


from him, it made Dangity highly resolve to prove 
himself worthy of their admiration, and in so 
doing he became the personification of daring, and 
a real hero to his little brothers and sisters, for it 
is well said that “every man is a hero to some 
one.” Even the little boys were playing Indian 
and building forts in the streets, and Dangity 
watching them grew to be somewhat like Theo¬ 
dore Roosevelt, who said, “I thought brave until 
I overcame my timidity. ,, 

So, while there was nothing daring nor romantic 
looking about Dangity, he was even now experi¬ 
encing a new courage, simply because of his 
resolve to live up to what was expected of him. 

Weeks of study of the old faded map, which 
hung in the waiting-room of the little depot, had 
resulted in his picking out this place and that 
place as the goal of his journey, and almost as 
soon dropping them again as some new fancy 
overtook him. Finally, however, he came to settle 
on Nevada as being the place that appealed most 
to his imagination. There were still great unset¬ 
tled areas there, as evidenced by the scarcity of 
railroads; and this might indicate new develop¬ 
ments, and romance; and, to tell the truth, 
romance was Dangity’s middle name, so to speak. 
With Jemima standing by his side he placed his 
finger on Reno, one day. “There’s my destination! 
I’m going to choose Reno for better or for worse; 
that’s the way folks choose a wife, isn’t it?” he 
inquired, looking at Jemima. 

“Oh yes, it’s all right to choose a town that way, 
but when it comes to choosing a wife, you’d better 
know more about her than you do about Reno, for 
if you don’t like the town you can change it, but 


26 Romances of the Rugged Road 

when it comes to a wife, that’s a horse of another 
color,” she warned. 

There were times when his venture seemed to 
be the height of folly, and at such times he deeply 
regretted his decision to go, but again there were 
times when his fancy took the wildest flings, and 
he pictured himself as a rich ranch owner riding 
about his vast ranges, or again he became a suc¬ 
cessful miner and he saw himself gathering the 
precious metal from some of those sun-kissed Cali¬ 
fornia placers, just as he had seen pictures of the 
picturesque mountaineers in the old school geog¬ 
raphies. Yes, there is no doubt that at such times 
he was dreaming, just dreaming; but then who 
has not had his day-dreams? I pity the dull, 
prosaic mortal who has never been able to soar 
out and beyond the narrow confines of the dead 
walls of fact, upon some fleecy cloud of pure imagi¬ 
nation, but has been instead a prisoner of the 
narrow circumstance which circumscribed and 
held him fast. Of course, mere dreaming without 
action does not accomplish much, but even a good 
dream is at times an inspiration. 

Jqmima tried hard to persuade Dangity not to 
go. “Oh Dangity, please don’t go,” she pleaded, 
“it will be terribly lonesome now without you; 
and then when you get out there in the big world 
where you’re going, you will make such a great 
success in life that like as not you will forget all 
about poor little me back here in this little out of 
the way place.” 

“Now Jemima, you don’t care so very much do 
you?” he asked indifferently. 

“Why, sure I care. I won’t have anyone to 
tease when you’re gone, and then there won’t be 


The Dreamer Awakes 27 

any one to tease Willie and Ted about either, you 
know,” she shot back at him good-naturedly. 

“Well, as far as Willie Gold and Ted Strong are 
concerned Fd never stand any show when they’re 
around, and if you want some one to tease, you’ll 
have to pick on Willie when I’m gone.” 

Seeing that he did not take her protestations 
seriously, she drew closer to him and pleaded 
coaxingly for him to stay. “I care more for you 
than you think I do, and I am really afraid you 
will grow away from me. While you are seeing 
all of the big world and getting better and wiser, 
I will just be standing still. What will I see in 
this little town? Nothing,” she declared in dis¬ 
dain. 

He was not prepared for this manifestation of 
interest on her part, and for a moment, but only 
for a moment, it caused him to hesitate as to 
whether he ought to go or not, but, rallying him¬ 
self with a brusqueness and an air of finality in 
his voice, he replied, “No, it’s too late now for me 
to change my plans. Fm going through with this 
thing no matter what happens! You wouldn’t 
want me to change all of my plans now, would 
you?” he asked earnestly, as he looked into her 
eyes. 

“No, Dangity, it wouldn’t be right for me to ask 
you to do that now, but I do hope that something 
happens to make you stay, just the same,” she 
insisted, as she hung her head and fixed her wist¬ 
ful eyes upon the ground. 

“Can it be she really cares?” Dangity asked 
himself when he was alone. “No, that can’t be; 
she has a momentary regret because she wants to 
see the world herself, I think, and not because she 


28 Romances of the Rugged Road 

really cares anything about me; as soon as I am 
gone she will forget all about me/’ He thus dis¬ 
missed her request from his mind. 

It tickled his vanity just a little to have people 
point him out on the street as that “young Fay 
fella what's goin’ away," and it would be the last 
of him were he to back out now at the last minute 
and not go. 

The night before he was to start, he and Jemima 
were walking along from the postoffice together 
when they ran into Ted Strong. He was evidently 
not well pleased when he saw Dangity and Jemima 
together and he lost no time in letting them know 
it. As they came up he accosted Jemima in none 
too gentlemanly tones with a “Well now my girl, 
where do you think you’re going with this ‘Kid’ 
here?’’ referring to Dangity. “It’s none of your 
business, if you want to know,’’ she came back 
quickly, and Ted flushed deeply at the rebuff. 

“Well, he better beat it while the beating’s 
good,’’ he warned, looking hard at Dangity, who 
now became deeply confused. Ted was his master 
and he knew it, but he could not believe that he 
meant to be rough, now. His belligerent attitude 
indicated he meant to meet him in a personal 
encounter. Dangity would rather run a mile than 
fight a minute. “Come on, let me take care of 
this young lady,’’ he repeated, pushing up threat¬ 
eningly to Dangity. Dangity was frightened, so 
frightened that he could hardly stand still, but he 
knew that it was up to him to at least make a 
show of resistance and he therefore replied as 
best he could, “If Jemima wants to walk with me 
it isn’t any of your business whether she does or 
not, and I’m not going to leave her alone just for 


The Dreamer Awakes 


29 


you either!” It took a heroic effort for him to 
say this, but he felt that the time had come for 
him to begin to assert himself. 

Ted looked at him for a moment, shocked 
beyond measure that he should dare to oppose 
him, and then he pushed him rudely off the side¬ 
walk, and ordered h-im to move on. Cut to the 
quick and stung by the thought that Jemima 
would think him a weakling or a coward he picked 
up his hat and went on up the street to his home, 
vowing savagely that he would grow to be a 
strong man some day, and then he would pay Ted 
back for his meanness, in full. 

When the day of departure actually arrived, it 
took something of an effort for him to tear himself 
away from the old home with all of its pleasant 
surroundings. I doubt if there is a greater event 
in any boy's life than his first leave-taking of the 
old nest. He is going out to make his own way in 
the world—to explore the unexplored; to fathom 
the unfathomed; to sail upon unknown, uncharted 
seas; to launch out upon an ocean, the size and 
character of which he may have but faint con¬ 
ception. 

Jemima called that day to see him and to bring 
some little present from the family for the 
journey. She expressed her disapproval of the 
actions of Ted and said that she had refused 
to allow him to accompany her home. 

‘‘Don't mind that,” Dangity said bitterly, “I’ll 
get even with that bully yet some day.” 

“Yes, I know you will; he’s older than you are, 
but just wait until you're grown and then he’d 
better watch out,” Jemima said encouragingly. 

“I want you to promise that you're going to 


30 Romances of the Rugged Road 

come back and see us all some day, and don’t stay 
away too long either,” she demanded saucily as 
she laughed at him. ‘Til be back all right, unless 
I get married,” he grinned sheepishly. 

“Yes, that’s it; you’ll go and get married and 
we’ll never see you again,” she whimpered. “Get 
married! Say, there’s no one going to throw a 
hitch onto me, unless they catch me asleep. Did 
you get what I said ?” He was smiling faintly, but 
his voice was firm. 

“Oh, that’s what they all say, but when the 
right one comes along away they go and get 
caught just like all the others. But I hope you at 
least tell us, Dangity, before you get tied up for 
life with some one you don’t know.” She evi¬ 
dently was the same old tease. He made a half 
promise to give her the first chance, but neither 
of them took it for more than a schoolboy promise; 
that is, he didn’t, although in her case it was 
different. 

He was surprised at the number who were down 
at the depot to see him off. The whole town had 
turned out en masse, and, while his own folks 
clung to him tenderly, the younger set laughed 
and joked with each other in order to make it as 
pleasant for him as possible. For once in his life 
he was the center of attraction, and this alone he 
felt was worth all it would cost him to leave home. 
We will pass up the familiar scenes of parting; the 
handshakes, the tears, the promises to write from 
every town and hamlet passed on the way and the 
repeated warnings to be careful and not get hurt; 
you remember them all. 

Even Ted Strong was on hand, although he kept 
in the background, and old Justice Frost was offer- 


The Dreamer Awakes 


31 


ing his fatherly advice to Dangity, all the time 
keeping an eye on his mother, for the industrious 
widow had taken the eye of the learned jurist of 
late and he was noticeably solicitous for her wel¬ 
fare. 

Jemima was there, making all the fun she could, 
and the parting between she and Dangity was 
apparently of no more consequence to them than 
it was to others of the party. 

Dangity was in high spirits. His heart was 
thrilled with a new emotion, and, as he stood on 
the rear platform and watched for the first time 
the old home town fade from sight, he felt that 
the first act in the strange drama of life was about 
to close, and he was now launching upon a new 
career of which he knew nothing. He had no idea 
when he would see the old place again; he remem¬ 
bered the good times he had had there and also 
the hard ones, and he was glad that a new world 
was opening up for him. 

He had no grudge against the old town, but it 
was too selfish, too close and narrow for him, so 
he therefore sought wider fields, and, as he hoped, 
“greener pastures,” for it is an old saying that 
“fields far away always look green.” 


32 


Romances of the Rugged Road 


CHAPTER II 

He Encounters Train-robbers 

His journey took him through Albany, Chicago 
and Omaha. 

From there the route lay out across the newer 
pioneer state of Nebraska, out past the more 
familiar scenes of civilization, out to where the 
west begins. 

“Out where the handclasp’s a little stronger, 
Out where the days are a little longer, 

Out where the west begins.” 

You may be sure he was all eyes, and nothing of 
importance escaped his notice. Speeding along 
the valley of the Platte, he watched the towns 
and even the farm houses grow smaller and 
smaller until they almost disappeared. 

He was anxious to save as much as possible on 
the expense of the trip, so he had taken a seat in 
the day coach, having waived the luxury of a 
sleeper. This had one advantage in that he found 
the company more congenial. The sleeper crowd 
never does quite warm up just like the day-coach 
crowd, there is more reserve and less sociability, 
or, in other words, more crust and less filling. 
The trip was a great delight to him. Meeting with 
others who were going through to the coast, the 
time passed very pleasantly with joke and story, 
and, with his big basket of good things which had 
been so generously packed by his anxious mother, 


He Encounters Train-robbers 33 

the affair was really more like a picnic, something 
which he thought of every time he dived into its 
ample recesses, and brought up some tempting 
article of food. If you have never traveled for 
days and lived out of one of mother’s picnic bas¬ 
kets, then my friend you still have a treat in store 
for you. 

I suppose, however, in the parlance of the sea¬ 
soned traveler, the trip would be described as un¬ 
eventful. This was almost, but not quite, true; 
that is, it only held true until Julesburg Junction, 
in the northeast corner of Colorado, was passed, 
and then things began to happen. 

The first intimation which the passengers re¬ 
ceived that anything was wrong was when the 
brakes began to grind and groan, and the train 
came to a sudden and rather bumpy stop, and 
pistol shots were heard outside. 

The train had scarcely stopped, when a rough¬ 
looking man wearing a mask, and carrying a brace 
of shooting irons that looked like young cannon, 
appeared at each end of the coach, and ordered the 
frightened passengers in no polite tones to “git 
your hands up ’nd git them up quick ’nd high, ’nd 
keep ’em there too, or there’ll be trouble a 
poppin’.” 

As it was getting along late in the evening, some 
of the folks were asleep, and among them was 
Dangity. A shot or two soon brought these back 
to the land of action, and Dangity roused up and 
took in the situation in a moment, like an old- 
timer. Instead, however, of putting up his hands 
as he saw the others doing, he slipped to his knees 
down between the seats. The car was very dimly 
lighted, so that this move escaped the eye of the 


34 Romances of the Rugged Road 

robber who was keeping a bead on the passengers 
while his pal went down the aisle to take up the 
“collection.” 

It was afterwards learned that a bunch of no¬ 
torious train-robbers had picked on this particular 
train as a means of replenishing their depleted 
treasury, as they had been tipped off to the fact 
that there was something worth while in the ex¬ 
press car. A few of the gang had insisted on tak¬ 
ing what small pickings they could from the pas¬ 
sengers, in case the express job failed, and this 
stickling for small pickings almost proved their 
undoing. 

Dangity had read considerable in his day about 
train-robberies, and it was always a wonder to 
him how one lone man could hold up a whole 
coachful of passengers and take their money away 
from them. He had always formed an idea as to 
what he would do under circumstances of this 
kind, and to tell the truth he really wished that 
this very thing would happen so he could see it. 
Unknown to anyone he had come prepared for 
such an emergency. Out of his slender earnings 
he had managed one day to buy an old pistol from 
a Gypsy trader who was passing along the road 
near his old home at Slowtown. It was old-fash¬ 
ioned and cumbersome and entirely out of date, 
but he had gotten hold of some ammunition for 
it that gave it a kick like a mule. When he slip¬ 
ped to his knees, he pulled this out of his pocket 
and got ready for action. 

Now, some one has well said that “ignorance 
more often begets confidence than does knowl¬ 
edge,” and this was certainly true in Dangity’s 


He Encounters Train-robbers 35 

case. He knew absolutely nothing about train- 
robbers and their ways, and never stopped for a 
moment to think of the risk he was running in 
opposing them. An older man would have thrown 
up his hands, but not so with Dangity, he hadn’t 
planned on that. 

Peeking around the end of the seat he caught 
sight of the fellow standing in the doorway keep¬ 
ing his eye and his gun trained on the passengers. 
His partner who was coming up the aisle caught 
sight of Dangity’s head about the time he had got¬ 
ten a bead on the other fellow and roared excited¬ 
ly, “Git your hands up there you poor fool, or 

I’ll-” But not waiting to finish the sentence, 

and seeing what Dangity was up to, he let go with 
one of the pistols at him. He was a little late, 
however, and a trifle wild, for, although the bul¬ 
let barely grazed Dangity’s shoulder and buried 
itself in the seat in front of him, he had managed 
to pull the trigger on the man on guard, who 
threw up his hands and with a groan, plunged 
headlong to the floor of the car. 

This unexpected interruption to their work up¬ 
set the plans of the robbers to such an extent 
that the man who was left took a parting shot at 
Dangity and beat a hasty- retreat, and when he 
was gone several men jumped on the other fellow 
who was lying in the aisle, and took his gun away 
from him and turned him over on his back. In 
the meantime the remainder of the bunch, having 
blown the express car, secured what valuables it 
contained and firing a round or two to prevent any 
curious onlookers from poking their heads out 
of the train, rode off into the darkness. The rob¬ 
ber was not dead, but was badly wounded and was 



36 Romances of the Rugged Road 

taken off the train at Cheyenne, where the rob¬ 
bery was reported to the authorities. 

As for Dangity, he was the hero of the hour. 
“Landsakes, boy! But you certainly took an 
awful chance there,” first one and the other cried. 
“Yes, but see what a dead shot he is, though,” 
another broke in, and from all sides came praise 
for his bold conduct, for all agreed that his prompt 
action had saved them their valuables. He could 
hardly believe that he was the timid boy who had 
shrunk from an encounter with Ted Strong only 
a few nights previous. Surely he was growing 
bolder fast, and better than the praise of his fel¬ 
lows was the thought to him that he had shown 
that he could do things when he took a notion. 
In his boyish imagination he had pictured many 
imaginary fights in which he had played a stellar 
role, as he had fondly nursed this old antiquated 
piece of artillery, and wondered if he should ever 
have a chance to use it. 

The chance had come even sooner than he had 
expected, and he was glad that he had been able 
to act out the part that he had pictured himself 
as acting. 

It is this mental preparation that helps soldiers, 
sailors and policemen do the things they seem to 
do automatically in time of danger. Yes, mental 
preparation is worth while. 

Dangity’s little escapade showed that he had a 
mind of his own, when given a chance to use it, 
and from then on he had a lot of friends on that 
train. 

After leaving Cheyenne, the road winds out 
across the almost barren hills of Wyoming. There 
is little to be seen, and most folks prefer to take 


37 


He Encounters Train-robbers 

this part of the journey in the night. The rail¬ 
road climbs the hills until the summit of the Con¬ 
tinental divide is reached, and it is pointed out to 
you that the water from one side of a building 
runs down to the Atlantic, and from the other 
side it runs to the Pacific. This is the great water¬ 
shed of North America, but there is no unusual 
sensation experienced, however, in crossing this 
notable spot, as one feels in crossing the Equa¬ 
tor, or in bumping over the Tropic of Capricorn. 

For ages Central Wyoming has been known as 
a good cattle country, and as such, for many years, 
it was the home of the cowboy, and also that other 
species of humanity known as the “rustler.” 
Away to the north of the railroad, towards the 
“Hole-in-the-Wall” country, there used to be vast 
stretches of wild uninhabited country which pro¬ 
vided excellent hiding-places for the outlaw and 
the bad man of every description, and where it 
was practically impossible to follow him. Now, 
however, these conditions have changed, for the 
great oil and mineral wealth has attracted the 
prospector and the businessman, and the old-time 
frontier scenes have largely passed. 

Still, Cheyenne, however, each year in a mea¬ 
sure rekindles the spirit of the past by staging its 
great round-up celebration, when all the celebri¬ 
ties of the riata and the saddle come forth once 
more to show their skill and prowess. For a week 
or more the streets resound to the clatter of hoofs 
and the clank of spurs, as gaily dressed cowboys 
(and cowgirls too, for that matter) gallop here 
and there on their prancing nags, or mingle with 
the palefaces of the town. When this is over, it 


38 Romances of the Rugged Road 

relapses once more into its old quiet and common¬ 
place again. 

With the passing of the open range, and the 
gradual encroachments of civilization, the old- 
time romance of these fields has passed away, 
and the work of the puncher has now become 
tame and regular. 

Dangity’s popularity had made him friends, and 
being very good at conversation he came into con¬ 
tact with some interesting characters. One of 
these, an old-timer, a big man with a grizzly 
beard, had gotten on somewhere along the line 
during the night, and, wishing to learn as much 
as possible regarding the country they were pass¬ 
ing through, Dangity engaged him in conversa¬ 
tion. 

“I suppose, Mister, you’ve lived around here a 
long time,” he began by way of introduction, at 
which the old man turned sharply and eyed him 
keenly for a moment, noting, I presume, as he 
did so, his youth and evident greenness. 

“You guessed right fust time, Kid,” he drawled 
in reply. “Warn’t no railroads hereabouts when 
I fust struck these parts. No, sir, me and me 
partner rode the saddle clear from Omaha here, 
we did—yes, sir; rode the saddle.” 

“My goodness! that was surely some ride, 
wasn’t it?” Dangity managed to stammer. 

“Yes, it was; but then I’ve rid a heap farther’n 
that lots of times sence, I hev,” he went on with¬ 
out waiting to be urged. 

“You have! Well, what do you know about 
that! Tell me all about it, won’t you ?” Dangity 
urged eagerly. 

“Well, you see it was like this; I’ve helped to 


He Encounters Train-robbers 39 

herd a bunch o' stock clear away down into old 
Mexico in the fall, kept ’em there all winter, and 
then druv ’em back again the followin’ spring.” 
“It must have taken a good rider to do that,” 
Dangity put in sympathetically. 

“A good rider! Well, I should say so. Them 
was the days when a puncher was a puncher; 
none o’ them rockin’-chair dudes like they hev 
nowadays,” he growled with an air of disgust as 
he bit off a generous chew of tobacco, and spit 
out of the open window. 

“I suppose you’ve had a lot of chums in your 
day, too, Mister,” Dangity went on, hoping to 
draw him out still more, for his language was 
music to his ears. 

“Waal, yes, I hev had a few in me day, but 
most of ’em has crossed the Great Divide. Some 
went over natural like, ’nd some was helped over 
mighty quick,” he rambled on in a reminiscent 
sort of way while he looked out over the distant 
hills as the sun was just beginning to peep over 
the top of them. 

‘‘The last pardner I had was the best o’ them 
all, but Bill was a mighty ’stravagant fella, ’nd 
by gosh his ’stravagance finally killed him,” he 
went on sorrowfully. “Killed him! How was 
that, drank himself to death I suppose ?” Dangity 
ventured sorrowfully. 

“No, no; nothin’ small nor mean like that. You 
see it happened this way. Bill got into a fight onct 
with two Indians, and he used all six barrels o’ 
his gun on one redskin even after the first shot 
took effect, and when his pardner jumped on him 
with a bowie-knife Bill didn’t hev a shot left. No, 


40 Romances of the Rugged Road 

sir; he was too blamed ’stravagant Bill wuz, but 
by crackie, sir, his ’stravagance finally killed him.” 

“That certainly was a terrible thing,” Dangity 
agreed in his most sympathetic tone. 

“A man has to be careful and saving, if he 
expects to get along in this world,” Dangity went 
on again a moment later, hoping to arouse the 
old man to more tales of his experience in this 
new country. It had the desired effect for he 
continued. 

“Yaas, he hes to be more’n careful, he hes to 
learn to stick to tha trail too; he cain’t run all 
over creation if he expects to ’complish anythin’. 
Some folks puts me in mind o’ Bud Taylor’s 
hounds. Ever heered about them?” the old man 
inquired looking hard at Dangity, who had taken 
a seat facing him. 

“No, sir, I can’t say that I have. Tell me about 
them too, won’t you?” he asked. “Why, yaas, it 
was like this: Bud Taylor hed some young hounds 
that he tuk out one day to run down a deer. The 
hounds picked up the deer’s trail all right, but 
they hadn’t gone fer when a fox crossed the trail, 
’nd what did the hounds do but drop the deer’s 
trail and go off after that. Well, pritty soon a 
rabbit crossed the fox’s trail, ’nd I’ll be durned 
if they didn’t start off after that; ’nd in a little 
while a squirrel crossed the rabbit’s trail, and I’ll 
be blowed if they didn’t take after that. Pritty 
soon they stops runnin’ and sets up a great ty-yi 
’nd Bud comes a runnin’ up ’spectin’ to git a deer 
’nd ’twan’t nothin’ but a squirrel, ’nd Bud was so 
all-fired mad he jist up ’nd blowed two o’ them 
to kingdom come,” the old man exclaimed out of 


He Encounters Train-robbers 41 

breath. “Yas, sir; stick ta tha trail, is what I 
say,” he concluded. 

With many like stories he regaled the hours 
and Dangity was sorry when he left the train, for 
they were passing through a very desolate coun¬ 
try which showed no signs of life save an occa¬ 
sional gopher or coyote. 

From Rawlins westward, the terrain becomes 
more broken and rough, but from Green River the 
scenery becomes rugged and picturesque, as the 
mountains rise in broken lines and rear their great 
jagged peaks against the distant sky-line, with a 
never-ending sea of hills, hills, hills in every direc¬ 
tion. Here and there a pleasant valley might be 
seen nestling like a jewel in a rude hand, but it 
was ever the roughness of the rude, towering 
bluffs and crags that took Dangity’s fancy. Now 
they seemed imaginary castles, or forts, rising 
with straight precipitous sides like bare stone 
walls for hundreds of feet, or sloping away in 
series of broken terraces, or glistening parapets. 

The variation of the hill country was a pleasant 
relief from the changeless monotony of the plains. 
Some one has said that man might be able to 
make a valley, but only God could make a moun¬ 
tain. 

As they passed into Utah the scenery increased 
in grandeur and in beauty. The famous Echo 
Canyon, lying a few miles east of Ogden, is a very 
pretty place, and it is of increasing interest be¬ 
cause of that peculiar formation known as the 
Devil's Slide, a great jagged stone shoot which 
runs from top to bottom of a high mountainside. 
There wouldn't be much left of his Satanic majes¬ 
ty if he ever took a slide down it, either. Here 


42 Romances of the Rugged Road 

and there pleasant little valleys break off from 
the Canyon, where the industrious Mormon farm¬ 
ers have led the cool water from the uplands out 
onto as rich land as lies out of doors. 

The fresh tang of the mountain air refreshed 
and stimulated him. The bigness of the world 
as he was seeing it filled him with awe, but it also 
gave him a desire to become a real part of it, to 
mix with it, to learn its ways, and to take an 
active part in running it as he saw men all about 
him doing. 

He was interested in the men who operated the 
railroads, who built the big cities, who came out 
at the depots and issued orders that were meant 
to be obeyed. As he thought of these men, and 
then looked at himself, how small and helpless he 
seemed in comparison. The thought that he was 
only a green, uncultured youth forced itself upon 
him. Here he was without a friend in the world 
who might help him, hoping to enter into com¬ 
petition with the strong, well equipped fellows he 
saw about him. He was sorry that he had not 
bored in harder when he was in school, and he 
made up his mind to acquire all the information 
possible from whatever source he might be able 
to grasp it. 

The exuberance of the very atmosphere was 
getting into his blood, all the dormant energies of 
his being were fast awakening within him, and 
these were beginning to fire his imagination with 
new and unhoped-for visions of success that here¬ 
tofore had been a stranger to him. 

By the time the train reached Ogden he was 
ready for any adventure that might offer. Just 
now, at least, he felt a consummate joy in having 


He Encounters Train-robbers 43 

left Slowtown and its sleepy environs behind; he 
might wish some day to return, but for the pres¬ 
ent he had no such intentions. 

At Ogden the trains are broken up and some 
of the cars are sent on their way to Salt Lake 
City, or to Portland or Seattle, or on to the coast. 
This often gives a short stop-over in Ogden, and 
this idle time came near proving fatal to Dangity 
and his plans. Ogden being such a pert little 
place, nestling as it does at the foot of great hills 
which almost surround it, it is a very attractive 
spot and most people like to look it over. The 
crowd on Dangity’s train were no exception, and 
so it was proposed as soon as the train came to 
a halt that all hands should take a run up town. 
Most of the crowd made a break for some of the 
many drinking-places that are found near the 
depot, and they urged Dangity to come in and 
have something too. “Come on Kid, let's have 
something to drink," several of them cried at 
once as they pushed their way into the nearest 
place. 

Dangity had often been warned to keep away 
from saloons. That was in the day when they 
carried on their business openly, but now that 
prohibition has come they are still far from being 
safe places for a young man to patronize, for many 
of them still dispense a concoction that is more 
deadly than the old-time rot-gut ever was. It 
seems, however, that each generation must learn 
its lessons in its own hard way, and this is why 
warnings and admonitions so often go unheeded. 
If one could will their own fund of experiences to 
their children, as they do their money, how wise 
those children would be, but, instead, each one 


44 Romances of the Rugged Road 

must travel, in a sense, his own hard road. At 
any rate Dangity yielded to the invitations of his 
new-found friends and went in with them, just 
to look around if nothing more, but, like the help¬ 
less fly which visited the spider for the same pur¬ 
pose, he found it easier to get in than it was to 
get out. 

“Well, Kid, come on, what’re you goin’ to have?” 
some one asked, noticing him staring awkwardly 
and gawkish-like around the place. 

“Aw-w-w, nothing, I guess; nothing at all,” he 
replied timidly. 

“Oh, come on, come on, don’t be afraid, try 
something, won’t you? There’s plenty of soft 
stuff here to choose from.” “Why, sure, a fellow 
that done what you did ought to have something 
to brace him up a little now,” another put in. 

He consented to have a drink of ginger-ale, or 
two, when some of the party, wishing to have a 
little fun, signaled the bartender to put a stick in 
it for him, and he, being ready for what ever 
excitement might offer, filled his next glass more 
than half full of forty-mile whiskey, a drink that 
would take the breath away from a south-sea 
pirate. 

He became wild and hilarious in a few minutes, 
and, what with the praise that was heaped upon 
him by those who came with him, his head was 
turned until he began to believe all they said. 

“You fellows should have seen this Kid here, the 
way he put away one of the worst train-robbers 
in the country wuz a sight fer sore eyes,” some 
one shouted. In all of Dangity’s short life, he had 
never had to brace himself against the winds of 
flattery, they had never blown his way, and it 


He Encounters Train-robbers 45 

was, perhaps, natural that he should fall before 
them. The strong liquor had gone to his head and 
he felt that he could lick his weight in wild-cats, 
and even said so, out loud. 

In fact the whole party were given to boasting 
in no mild nor gentle tones, until some of the by¬ 
standers began to take offense, for, sorry to say, 
the party was by no means a private one. Among 
those who were listening in in the hope of hearing 
an invitation to come up and have something, was 
a rough looking lumberjack who was down on his 
luck. Not receiving said invitation, he grew dis¬ 
gusted and broke in suddenly: 

“Looks like you bums think you’re somethin’ 
big, the way you’re spillin’ the air around here.” 

This startled the drinking party and one of 
them shot back, “No, we don’t think nothing of 
the kind; but this boy here put one of the worst 
train-robbers in the world out of business, and he 
done it with his own gun too, mind you.” 

“Haw, haw, is that so?” the lumberjack broke 
in, “let’s see that famous gun, will ya?” When 
it was shown him he laughed another guffaw. 
“Good Lawdie, you don’t call that old pea-shooter 
a gun, do ya?” he asked looking from one to the 
other. “Why say, folks, I’d just like to let some 
one take a shot at me with that old thing just to 
see how it feels.” Rather a dangerous offer I 
can assure you, but he persisted in having the 
matter out, until Dangity agreed to go out and 
take a shot at him in order to satisfy his curiosity. 

The more sober ones feared this might be invit¬ 
ing trouble in a strange land, so it was arranged 
that the two should shoot at a target instead; so 
they all piled out into the yard at the rear of the 


46 Romances of the Rugged Road 

place and proceeded to stage the contest. Strange 
to say, Dangity won, and this so angered the 
other fellow that he put his gun away, and with 
an oath tore into the poor helpless boy with his 
fists, growling as he did so, “If I can’t beat you 
at that game I can at this.” 

Dangity saw at once that he was in for trou¬ 
ble, but the rest of the party were either too 
drunk to realize his danger, or else they were 
bent on seeing some fun, for they left him entirely 
to shift for himself. He soon found that he was 
no match for his heavier and stronger opponent, 
who was hardened by age and hard work, and he 
was soon knocked and mauled around unmerci¬ 
fully. 

“Go for him, boy, knock him cuckoo, stand up 
to him now, you’ve got him going,” first this one 
and that one shouted to him, but it was nothing 
more nor less than cold-blooded murder to pit 
him against a man of that kind. True, he did his 
best, but that best was a very weak effort, and 
he was soon a sorry sight with blackened eyes 
and bruised and bleeding face. 

Lucky for him that some one interfered and 
rescued him or he might have been beaten to 
death. As it was, he was soon lying in a cringing, 
shivering heap in a corner of the yard, too sore 
and frightened to move. A few fellows lifted him 
up and carried him into the saloon again, where 
they braced him up in a chair, washed off his 
face, and gave him another drink to revive him. 
One of those who were looking on upbraided the 
lumberjack for assaulting a green young boy, 
whereupon they fell to punching and kicking each 
Other around the yard in fine style, and Dangity’s 


He Encounters Train-robbers 47 

opponent was getting the worst of it, when the 
proprietor came out and called out, “Here, you 
fellows, stop fighting there now before you get to 
be bad friends and some one gets hurt! Come on 
in now and have something to settle this muss 
over,” at which they left off fighting and came in 
where all hands had something in the shape of a 
pacifier. 

The combination of the strong liquor and the 
beating was more than poor Dangity could stand, 
so he soon fell into a stupor from which it was 
hard to arouse him, and his “friends,” not wishing 
to miss their trains, went off and left him. He 
was indeed a sorry sight and one to arouse the 
pity of even the most hardened, for, while he 
looked big enough to be a man, he was nothing 
more than an overgrown boy, unhardened by work 
and unused to the rough ways of the world, and 
certainly now in a pitiable condition. 

It was well towards evening when he awoke 
and tried to remember where he was. Slowly the 
events of the day came back upon him, and he 
was conscious of aches and pains in various parts 
of his body, which recalled to him the terrible 
mauling he had received. As soon as his head was 
clear, he aroused himself and stumbled out of the 
place and made his way to the depot as best he 
could, but of course his train had gone long ago. 
This added to his calamity, for everything he 
owned was in the old valise—even his ticket had 
been placed there for safe-keeping—and this was 
on the train. The best he could do was to have 
the agent wire ahead to have it put off at Reno. 
It would likely be there waiting for him whenever 
he should be able to catch up with it. 


48 Romances of the Rugged Road 

The remorse and chagrin which now threatened 
to overwhelm him were kept under control only by 
dint of great effort. A good old-fashioned cry 
would have brought relief, but he was ashamed to 
let any one catch him doing that so he just grit¬ 
ted his teeth and gave vent to a bitter upbraiding 
of himself for his crass foolishness. “If I’d only 
taken mother’s advice and kept away from that 
miserable place, I’d have been a lot better off 
now. I’ll bet you that’s the last time any one will 
ever catch me in that kind of a joint again,” he 
vowed over and over to himself. 

He realized that he was up against it hard, real 
hard, and that it would be necessary for him to 
economize down to the very limit in order to get 
anything to eat, for even what little money he 
had had been left in the valise because he had 
been warned against some one picking his pocket 
when he was asleep; all save a few cents in change 
was there now. 

He hung around the depot for want of a better 
place to go, and when night came on he curled 
up on one of the seats and tried to get a little 
sleep. 

Fortunately it was one of those old-fashioned 
seats where one can stretch out full length on it 
and not be bothered by those iron arms which 
have since been placed at intervals along their 
length in order to correctly divide the seating 
space. My curses on the man who invented those 
barbarous arms, for they have robbed many a 
tired travler of a comfortable night’s rest. 

He found a lot of other embarrassed gentry 
there too, who were getting the benefit of a free 
night’s lodging, and whether it was the snores of 


He Encounters Train-robbers 49 

these or the recollection of his recent trouble that 
haunted him, he was not sure, but at any rate he 
rested poorly. 

He had just dozed off into something like a real 
sleep, when he was awakened by the loud talk of 
two drunken soldiers who were having a dispute 
over the possession of a gun which one of them 
persisted in pointing rather uncomfortably at the 
other, threatening all the while in the vilest of 
language to shoot him. The sleepers who hap¬ 
pened to wake up and see this unadvertised little 
drama soon concluded that it was a lot safer out 
under the stars, especially as they noticed that 
gun dangling unpleasantly about. 

It was a regulation army Colt, and looked as 
mean as sin in the hands of a fellow who all the 
while seemed to be hankering to press the trigger, 
and who at best might not be able to judge very 
accurately as to how much pressure there was 
being exerted upon it, and especially as the fatal 
pressure was only the matter of a few ounces, 
more or less. 

From the trend of their maudlin conversation, 
it was apparent that there was a woman in the 
case, and this itself was enough to spell trouble 
with a capital T. The one who was on the re¬ 
ceiving end of the barrel was pleading with his 
companion as follows, “Come on now, Joe, take 
that blamed thing away now, it might go off any 
time,” but Joe kept boring it unpleasantly into 
his midriff. “Aw come on now, cut the comedy, 
take that thing away, will you?” he went on, but 
Joe seemed intent upon making him sweat as he 
chortled, “Not by a jugful; you stole my girl at 
the dance last night ’nd Fm goin’ to pump you so 


50 Romances of the Rugged Road 

full of holes that your own mother won’t know 
you. I’m goin’ to get even with you now, you see 
if I don’t,” he reiterated violently, interspersing 
his remarks with a torrent of suitable oaths. 

Dangity felt certain that there was going to be 
a tragedy unless he interfered and rescued the 
unfortunate soldier from his dangerous predica¬ 
ment, for he was sure the other fellow meant to 
shoot his comrade. He was in a dark part of the 
room, and so far had not been noticed by either 
of the two men. He still had his old blunderbuss 
with him and decided that it was about time to 
put it into action again. The fellow was still in¬ 
sisting that he would make a sieve out of his 
comrade and was brandishing the gun around 
when Dangity took careful aim and fired. The 
noise brought every one to their feet in an in¬ 
stant and those who could, bolted for the door. 
The bullet must have struck the soldier in the 
wrist of the hand which held the gun, for he 
dropped it to the floor, and grabbing his wrist 
with the other hand he danced around and howled 
with pain, “Oh, who done that? Who done that? 
My Gawd, who done that?” 

Dangity waited for no more, but taking advan¬ 
tage of the general confusion he likewise sought 
safety in flight. There are times when discretion 
is the better part of valor, and this was certainly 
one of them. His work was done and the best 
thing for him now was to beat it and not bother 
waiting for his pay. 

While this shot was not as important nor as 
far-reaching as “the shot heard round the world,” 
nevertheless it did stir up a lot of excitement 
where it was heard. It brought several railroad 


He Encounters Train-robbers 51 

police to the scene, and the agent sent in a call 
for the city department, and these with what 
nighthawks were prowling around made quite a 
large company who gathered on the platform to 
see what all the noise was about. The soldiers, 
who had also come out to get the air, were examin¬ 
ing the fellow’s wrist, which was evidently quite 
badly shattered, and they were having a hard 
time trying to convince the police that it wasn’t 
one of them who had fired the shot. Dangity was 
watching the performance from what he con¬ 
sidered a safe distance, but a railroad “bull” 
caught sight of him as he came toward the scene, 
and, his suspicions being aroused, he started after 
him; but Dangity, sensing this new danger, dived 
in among a bunch of cars standing in the yards, 
and after crawling under and over a lot of these 
and doubling back he was able to evade his pur¬ 
suer and reach a vantage point from which he 
could view the scene under one of the lights on 
the platform. 

“Perhaps I was a little too quick on the trigger 
there,” he mused; “that fellow might have been 
fooling, but I’ll guarantee he won’t fool with a 
gun in public any more for a while. Even if I 
didn’t save that fellow’s life, I’ll bet I taught that 
other bird a lesson he won’t soon forget.” 

Trembling like a leaf, and still out of breath, 
he made his way out to the edge of the yards, 
where he found some grass and some trees which 
he sought the shelter of, and, being dead tired 
after his busy day, he lay down and tried to snatch 
another nap. “What in the world will I get into 
next?” he moaned. “It seems that I am always 
getting into trouble. Am I always going to keep 


52 Romances of the Rugged Road 

on this way, I wonder, or will things take a turn 
for the better for me?” he asked himself as he 
tried to forget his troubles and go to sleep. 

The sun was already shining brightly when he 
awoke and scrambled to his feet to look around. 
He could hardly believe that he was the same fel¬ 
low who had ridden into Ogden in such tine spirits, 
only a few hours before. How quickly circum¬ 
stances had changed. With his blackened eyes 
and swollen face he looked more like an out-and- 
out bum than he ever thought it possible for him 
to look. 

He was ashamed to look people in the face as 
he made his way up town to try and pick up some¬ 
thing to eat, and when it came to looking for a 
job he was turned down at every place. His ap¬ 
pearance was against him, for people turned away 
abruptly in order to hide their mirth at such a 
gruesome sight. 

The puny lunch which he was able to purchase 
looked more like a hand-out for a sick baby than 
it did a meal for a starving youth who was hungry 
enough to eat a butcher off his cart. 

Disheartened and sore, he made his way back 
to the shady trees and the inviting grass. Why 
repine against the edicts of fate which seemed to 
be, just now at least, unfavorable to him? Why 
not let fate run its course? 

Under the trees he found a score or more of men 
lying about, who were evidently quite contented 
to lie here and let the rest of the world go by 
without asking it any questions. Here they were, 
men of all sorts and ages—most of them poorly 
dressed, and some of them looking as though they 
had not felt water upon them since the day they 


He Encounters Train-robbers 53 

were baptized. These were the real hoboes—the 
genuine floaters—the men who ride west in the 
fall and east in the spring; men who have worked 
in almost every state in the Union, many of them 
sticking to a job no longer than was necessary in 
order to get a few shekels to eat on, and then 
trekking to more inviting fields. 

Many of them know the character of the coun¬ 
try from the oil fields of Mexico to the gold mines 
of British Columbia, and from the forests of 
Quebec to the orange groves of California. These 
constituted but a remnant of the great army that 
goes to make up the floating labor supply of North 
America. As he looked them over and talked with 
them, he made up his mind that he did not want 
to become as many of them had become, floating 
driftwood on the great sea of circumstances. 

“Yes, traveling is all right,” he said to a mid¬ 
dle-aged man who was telling of his experiences, 
and of all the places he had been to, “but when 
it gets to be a disease it’s time to call a halt.” 

“Why sakes alive, boy! You don’t know when 
you’re well off. What’s the use of workin’ ? The 
world owes you a livin’ anyhow,” he scoffed when 
Dangity asked him if he had been looking for a 
job. 

“Well, maybe the world does owe me a living, 
but I expect to work for all it ever pays me,” was 
his sensible reply; “that is,” he continued hope¬ 
fully, “unless I strike a gold mine or something 
like that.” 

“Haw, haw! Say Kid, don’t waste no time look¬ 
in’ for them things, for some rich guy will come 
along and take it away from you if you ever do 


54 


Romances of the Rugged Road 

find one,” he exclaimed derisively, as he rolled 
over on the other side in order to keep out of the 
sun. 

Dangity was surely up against it. He had no 
idea which way to turn to get out of his predica¬ 
ment; there were ten men for every job that of¬ 
fered, and he was always on the tail end of the 
line of waiting applicants. 



They Called Him “The Dude” 
(Page 160) 







A New Start 


55 


CHAPTER III 
A New Start 

The next few days brought him but little relief. 
He was getting over his beating and was learning 
to take things more philosophically, but his finan¬ 
cial condition had not improved. A little odd job 
here and there had brought him sufficient to eat 
on, and as the weather was warm he found his 
sleeping quarters under the trees. 

He saw by the billboards that Ringling Broth¬ 
ers’ big circus was to stop at Ogden and he also 
overheard others talking about getting a job with 
it so that they could travel all the time and get 
paid for it as well, and then, too, they would al¬ 
ways be sure of the eats, something not to be 
lightly overlooked. 

He was among the first ones on the ground 
when it arrived, to watch it pull into Ogden. He 
tackled one of the foremen for a job, who shot 
back at him so quick it almost took away his 
breath, “You want a job, eh? What doin’— 
shinin’ the elephants’ tusks or curlin’ the mon¬ 
keys’ tails?” 

“I never worked at that before, but I guess I 
could do it,” Dangity replied. “All right, Kiddo, 
hop that wagon there and go up to the grounds 
and tell that big stiff up there that I sent you,” 
he barked, waving his arm in the general direc- 


56 Romances of the Rugged Road 

tion of the grounds. Dangity, glad to get away, 
climbed onto the big wagon and rode off with it. 
At the grounds he located the boss. A blind man 
could have done so. All that was necessary was 
to seek the direction from whence came the rauc¬ 
ous roar which poured from the throat of a long, 
wiry-looking gazabo, who was cussing out a bunch 
of sleepy canvasmen who were preparing to shake 
out the big top. A good sound-off seems to be a 
prerequisite for a job of this sort. 

When he told the fellow he had been sent up 
there to work, he was startled by the pertinent 
question, “What can you do?” 

“Oh-h, why-y—oh, most anything, I guess,” 
he stammered. 

“Well, I’ve found that the fella that can do 
anything, generally can’t do nawthin’ so you hike 
right over to the cook-tent there and tell that big 
swab that I sent you over,” he growled, as he 
winked at the gang. 

“The cook tent! Sulphur and molasses!” he 
gasped. He was on the point of throwing up the 
job then and there, but the painful reminder that 
he must work or starve forced him to pocket his 
pride and disgust and go over and see the chef. 
He found him, a big, good-natured Frenchman— 
that is, he was as good-natured as a circus chef 
could be at that hour of the morning who was 
trying to instill a little life into a sleepy-looking 
bunch of helpers who were growling like a pack 
of wolves. 

Dangity was immediately introduced to a big 
pile of potatoes which he was expected to peal for 
breakfast. How disgusted he was! If his mother 
had asked him to peel a potato, or wash a dish, 


A New Start 


57 


he would howl like a pirate, and now to think that 
he had this for a regular job. Oh, boy! It was 
tough, but he buckled down to it with a will and 
by the time the breakfast call was sounded he was 
as hungry as a bear, and his fingers were almost 
raw. 

Of all the hungry men he had seen eat, he 
thought these took the prize. The others looked 
like pallid invalids beside this crew, and he soon 
found that the cook-tent is the very sanctum 
sanctorum of the circus. The main top may be 
late in rising, the side-shows may be in a jam, 
but the cook-tent must be up and in working order 
if peace and harmony is to prevail, for a circus, 
like an army, travels on its stomach, so to speak. 

With a good, substantial meal under his belt, 
he felt more like facing the world. It is wonder¬ 
ful how much braver the average man feels on a 
full stomach. He felt so good that he even man¬ 
aged to get up a laugh at some of the funny-look¬ 
ing people he saw moving around. He was to 
find, as many another has found, that there is 
nothing like the “oil of humor” to lubricate the 
“wheels of care,” and a good laugh is the best 
tonic in the world. 

This was brought home rather forcibly to me 
while attending a Lincoln birthday celebration in 
Washington a few years ago. A grandson of Ad¬ 
miral Porter was telling how Lincoln told Porter 
that he wanted him near him in Washington as 
much as possible. Porter was very much puffed 
up over the president’s appreciation of his mili¬ 
tary abilities, but imagine his chagrin to have 
Mr. Lincoln say, “I wasn’t thinking primarily 
about your military ability, but the principal rea- 


58 Romances of the Rugged Road 

son I want you around me is that you can always 
tell such a doggone good story.” 

Dangity had been basely humbled, but he was 
not discouraged; but his job as a pot-wrestler in 
the cook-tent of a circus was a long way, in his 
estimation, from the exalted position he had map¬ 
ped out for himself. Some one has well said that 
there are times when “it is only a step from the 
sublime to the ridiculous,” and it seemed to him 
as though he had taken that step. 

He was to learn, however, that all useful work 
must be performed by some one, and that often 
what looks like a menial task is after all the most 
important. Without cooks and dishwashers, this 
would certainly be a hungry world. 

He was glad when the last old pot and pan had 
been thrown into the big wagons and rushed off 
to the train, and his day’s work was over. As it 
was Saturday night, he was paid for his one day’s 
work; it wasn’t very much, but did ever money 
feel so good in his hand ? He could not remember 
that it had, principally because, perhaps, it had 
been earned by hard work. As he rode along to 
the depot he was overjoyed to think that he was 
getting out of Ogden. His experiences there had 
not been the most pleasant, but he felt that he 
had learned a great deal. The actual performance 
which the circus had put on had occupied but lit¬ 
tle of his time, aside from the fact that he did 
dress up like an Arab and ride on one of the big 
wagons during the parade for he was kept so busy 
that he had little time to see what was going on. 

When the wagon he rode was safely stored in 
its place he curled up on its top, under a canvas 
cover, and was soon lost in sleep. The days had 


A New Start 


59 


given him ample cause to pause and think about 
what was going to become of him; so many 
strange events had been crowded into them that 
it seemed an age since he left his quiet old home. 
He found no trouble in getting to sleep, and for 
once, at least, he proved the truth of Solomon's 
statement, “The sleep of a laboring man is sweet." 
Circus men seldom suffer from insomnia; it is 
only those who loll about on feathered beds of 
ease who suffer from this malady. 

He never knew at what time the train pulled 
out of Ogden. The first thing he knew when he 
woke up and poked his head out from under the 
canvas was that they were far out upon the des¬ 
ert, and the sun was high in the heavens. 

My, how stiff and cramped he was from lying 
on the hard wooden floor of the old wagon top. 
But he saw other heads sticking out all along the 
train, so he knew that he wasn’t the only one who 
slept on the same sort of a bed. 

Today was Sunday and most of the day would 
be spent in travel, so there was plenty of time to 
rest up. There wasn’t much in the way of scenery 
to interest him for they rode for the most part 
across barren, sandy country that produced noth¬ 
ing but stunted sage-brush and a few jack-rabbits, 
with an occasional coyote that went hopping away 
across the hills on the approach of the train. 

Here and there little grass-covered valleys 
bordering upon some small stream intervened to 
break the monotony of the sand and sage-brush. 

About noon the train stopped at Battle Moun¬ 
tain, a junction town about half way across the 
state. They were ordered to meet another train 
from the west here, and as it had not arrived they 


60 Romances of the Rugged Road 

were compelled to wait. This being Sunday, quite 
a number of natives had ridden in from the sur¬ 
rounding ranges in quest of a little excitement. 
The three drink parlors proved to be places of 
mutual attraction, not only for these, but for the 
few townsfolk and for those who had left the 
train and gone to look for some refreshments. 

Dangity joined the rest of the bunch, partly 
for sake of the exercise, and partly out of curiosi¬ 
ty to see what these western towns looked like. 
Nothing happened until he bumped into a negro 
who had gotten hold of some fire-water some place 
and was having more or less excitement slaunch- 
ing around and doing a lot of talking. Whether 
he thought Dangity looked easy, or he was just 
a plain ordinary fool, I don’t know, but at any 
rate he took occasion to dispute his right to at 
least half of the crossing when they met on a 
muddy street. The negro made no effort to share 
the crossing, but instead rather pushed Dangity 
out of the way. His recent encounter in Ogden 
had made him chary of personal broils, especially 
against larger and older men, and this negro was 
a husky, well built fellow, and in his half drunken 
condition he sure looked mean. “Git out of my 
way, young fella,” the negro growled as he stood 
glaring at Dangity. 

“I’m not hurting you any, and you mind your 
own business,” he replied as firmly as he could 
manage, although he was actually shaking from 
fear and nervousness. 

“Mind my own business, eh ?” the darkey snarl¬ 
ed, “mind my own business! I’ll bust your nose 
for ya if you tell me to mind my own business,” 
he stormed. 


61 


A New Start 

Without waiting for Dangity to reply the col¬ 
ored man aimed a blow at him which he was able 
to dodge, but the next one caught him in the ribs 
and he clinched in order to save himself. While 
he was much the lighter of the two he was pretty 
wiry and the colored man was too much under the 
influence to be at his best, so in the tussle which 
followed both of them went down into the mud. 

The sight of the melee soon drew a crowd, who, 
as soon as they saw what the game was, grabbed 
the colored man and yanked him off of Dangity, 
who gave him a good rap or two as he was pulled 
away, which showed that he had the right spirit 
in him, even though he was too weak to make a 
very favorable demonstration in public. It surely 
must have been strong liquor which could make a 
poor colored man so lose his sense of discretion as 
to attack a white man in Battle Mountain that 
day. The only reason he wasn’t killed is because 
he had nine lives, or else it was because it is al¬ 
most impossible to kill a drunken man, for the 
ordeals which those plainsmen put that poor fel¬ 
low through were most terrible. He must have 
gotten hold of some of that stuff that they used 
to say was so strong that it would make a jack- 
rabbit spit in a bull-dog’s face if he got one whiff 
of it. 

They first relieved him of a very serviceable- 
looking gun which he was carrying, and then 
punched him into submission in a none too gentle 
manner, after which, one of those who were 
mounted threw a riata over his head which pin¬ 
ioned his arms to his sides, and then proceeded to 
test his speed by racing his pony up and down the 
street. When the pace became too fast the poor 


62 Romances of the Rugged Road 

fellow tumbled over and was dragged along 
through the mud. Next they made him dance, 
by pumping lead around his feet, and when they 
tired of this they took turns in seeing how close 
they could come to his ears with the lashes of 
their quirts. 

“Oh Lordie, save me, save me,” the negro 
groaned as one kind of torture was followed by 
another and it looked as if any one of them might 
prove fatal at any minute. His life was saved, 
however, in an unexpected way. 

The ranchers were only having a little sport, 
after their fashion, although it is true that it was 
pretty rough sport, and one of them, hearing the 
Black calling upon the Deity for help, suggested 
that he sing them a song before they bumped him 
off for good. Under the stress of circumstances, 
he sang with a fervor that gripped the heart of 
some of the gang, as he stood with tears rolling 
down his quivering cheeks and sang that old plan¬ 
tation melody, “Didn’t My Lord Deliver Daniel 
From the Lion’s Den?” 

“Enough’s enough there now, boys,” a big fel¬ 
low yelled. “We better take the hitch off and let 
him go; he’s tamed now all right,” he went on, 
until some one threw off the riata and away the 
negro darted through the crowd towards the cir¬ 
cus train, which offered the nearest means of 
escape. The next moment the whistle blew and 
all hands hurried back and scrambled on board, 
where Dangity brushed the mud from his clothes 
and wondered what sort of a scrape he was going 
to get into next. 

The sun was a westering towards the evening 
when the train pulled into Reno and he was con- 


A New Start 


63 


cious of a new thrill as he realized that he was 
now at the end of his journey. He had no desire 
to remain with the circus; as a means of trans¬ 
portation it came in very handy, in a pinch, but 
he was not anxious to continue that mode of liv¬ 
ing. As soon as the train came to a stop he slip¬ 
ped from the top of the wagon and made off 
through the little company who had gathered to 
watch the arrival of the circus, a dirty, hungry 
but happy boy; not however, without being seen, 
for the foreman yelled after him, “Hey, come 
back here you, where’re you headin’ for now?” 
But his entreaty fell upon deaf ears, for, in the 
parlance of the street, Dangity had other fish to 
fry. 

A few years ago, Reno was known by its ad¬ 
mirers as the “biggest little town on the map.” 
Not that it was a large place, as mere numbers 
go, although as the county seat of Washoe county 
it had been given a fair start, numerically speak¬ 
ing. Being the junction point of the road to Vir¬ 
ginia City and the towns of the Comstock, as well 
as of the road which ran north towards Madeline 
Plains, and being also a division point on the main 
line of the Central Pacific, made it something of 
a railroad town. Then, lying, as it does, in the 
midst of a good grazing country, made it of con¬ 
siderable importance as a ranch town. These fav¬ 
orable settings all combined to help Reno on its 
way to fame, although it was none of these at¬ 
tributes which really put it on the map. It was 
as a port of call, where dissatisfied voyagers on 
the stormy sea of matrimony might slip their 
cables, or receive clearance papers which would 
allow them to embark upon a new voyage, that 


64 Romances of the Rugged Road 

made it the rendezvous of the great American 
divorce colony, and gave it a national reputation. 
With all of these wonderful natural and artificial 
advantages, it is no wonder that Reno became al¬ 
most a household word throughout the length and 
breadth of the land. People who could scarcely 
tell you where Little Rock, or Oshkosh, or even 
Chicago, were, knew Reno. 

Here was a town which had never been accused 
of being dull or slow—it just couldn't be with so 
much of interest going on. It was ready to fur¬ 
nish anything from a fight to a frolic, and usually 
upon very short notice. 

In the days of the saloon and the gambling- 
house it was described as also being the “toughest 
little town in seventeen counties,” by those who 
were qualified to speak. Not that it was, per¬ 
haps, any worse than Abilene, Kansas, in the days 
of Bat Masterson, or Tucson, Arizona, before the 
railroad. It was not unusual for a bunch of 
drunken cowboys to ride yelling through the 
streets, and “shoot up” the town, in the early 
days, and there were many fights and feuds be¬ 
tween the ranchers, the miners and the floaters 
and tin-horn gamblers who go to make up the 
population of every new town. It has always been 
the case that when red-blooded men and bad 
whiskey get together there is generally plenty of 
work for the sheriff and the undertaker, and Reno 
was no exception to the rule. 

The common herd sought their entertainment 
in the dance-halls and cheap shows, but the high¬ 
brows carried on their jamborees in the more ex¬ 
clusive cafes, or behind the closed doors of the 
“residences” of those who were simply biding 


A New Start 65 

the statutory time when they would be able to 
receive their decrees. 

These nocturnal wassails often lasted well into 
the early hours of the morning and not infre¬ 
quently degenerated into a wild worship of Bac¬ 
chus, the god of pleasure. Some of the local pas¬ 
tors declared that “the devil winked every time 
he heard some one mention Reno.” 

Not all of the inhabitants, however, were hilari¬ 
ous. There were some pious souls there—there 
always are—and these gave dignity and respec¬ 
tability to the place and kept it from being de¬ 
stroyed as were the ancient Cities of the Plain. 
But these good souls were few in number, and 
they usually went to bed early. 

This of course is the Reno that was; it is now 
as sedate and straight-going as any respectable 
modern town can be, with its spirit and its reputa¬ 
tion. 

It was into this buzzing little wide-open town 
of other-day memories that a green, gangling un¬ 
couth-looking youngster landed on a pleasant Sun¬ 
day afternoon. 

He looked, acted and felt as green as a cucumber 
in May, but he was determined to overcome what¬ 
ever of inexperience he was suffering under and 
make himself as efficient as any of the natives in 
their own line. 

His first act was to inquire at the depot for his 
valise, and the agent who gave it to him told him, 
“You're the luckiest fellow in the world to get 
that back again." 

A little later he found a small room over an 
old saloon and to this he repaired and proceeded 
to slick up a little, as the natives would say. This 


66 Romances of the Rugged Road 

consisted of a wash, a change of clothes and the 
act of getting a shave. 

As he looked at himself in the old piece of 
broken mirror that hung over the washbowl, he 
said, “Well, Dangity, you’re here at last, and what 
in the world are you going to do now?” The 
thought startled him. Here he was in actual con¬ 
tact with the thing he had been planning for 
months, and the reality of it shook him out of his 
complacency. He had spent months in picturing 
to himself a wonderfully successful career in the 
alluring fields of some far off land of romance, 
and here he was now at the end of the dream road 
and forced to take immediate action. He was 
much in the same position as the fellow who has 
been thinking up a flowery flow of speech which 
he intends to breathe upon the father of his dear¬ 
est when he goes to ask for her hand; but alas, 
when suddenly thrown into his presence he finds 
the nearness of the situation has unnerved him. 
What in the world was he to do now? He was 
glad that it was Sunday and thus the impertinent 
question would be forced into the background for 
at least another day. 

Sunday in Reno meant something of a holiday, 
nothing more. Most of the business places kept 
open, and the sporting houses considered this 
their best day. Nearly everyone “slicked up” a 
little for the occasion, due, I presume, to some in¬ 
herited memory of their early training. It might 
only be a clean pair of overalls, or a new shirt, but 
there was some little touch that made the day 
different. As he meandered along the street his 
eye was attracted to the fancy colored shirts and 
natty outfits of the few cowboys who rode about 


A New Start 


67 


or gathered in groups in front of the refreshment 
parlors. Like all young fellows with a romantic 
turn of mind, this sort of thing appealed to his 
fancy. He wanted to be a cowboy, and the sight 
of those fellows in their high-heeled boots and 
big hats awakened the spirit of adventure. Not 
a few good-looking girls mingled with the men, 
and as these also rode astride, sometimes it was 
difficult to tell one from the other. The only 
woman he had ever seen ride used one of those 
poky, uncomfortable side-saddles, but here they 
adopted the same sensible method as their more 
practical brothers. 

When he returned to the hotel later in the eve¬ 
ning, he was in a more cheerful frame of mind 
than he had been for several days. The happy, 
care-free spirit of the Renoites had taken pos¬ 
session of him and he was able to laugh at his 
little irritating experiences of the last few days, 
now that they were over and he was able to face 
the world on something like an equal footing 
again. 

It was necessary for him to pass through the 
saloon part of the building, in order to reach the 
stairs at the rear which led to his room. He 
lingered a few minutes among the crowd which 
now filled the place and was about to leave it when 
suddenly, without any warning, a fight started be¬ 
tween several fellows who were in the back of 
the room, and in a few moments it became gen¬ 
eral. It seemed that there were a lot of circus 
men in there warming up and these got into an 
argument with some of the local talent and in a 
few minutes it was a case of every man for him¬ 
self, and the devil take the under-dog. 


68 Romances of the Rugged Road 

Glory be, how they did fight! The place was 
so crowded that it was impossible to distinguish 
friend from foe, and in fact some seemed to be 
entirely indifferent to this mere detail, as they 
swung out wildly with the hope of keeping a clear 
space around themselves. When this was not 
possible, gouging and short-arm jabs -were in 
order, or any other method that might get results. 

With crunching, smashing blows being rained 
in all directions, there were soon a lot of sore and 
bleeding heads in evidence, and it wasn’t long 
until glasses, bottles, chairs and any and every¬ 
thing that wasn’t nailed down was being thrown 
in the hopes of turning the tide of battle. 

Dangity, finding himself in the middle of the 
thing, struck out as best he could, and despite the 
fact that he abhorred this rough-and-tumble- 
drag-’em-out method he fought with more relish 
than he had ever known before, and, while he 
stopped more than one jarring blow, he was also 
able to land several that in any other respectable 
society would have counted for something, but 
in this crowd they were entirely ineffective. The 
fight had reached its height when some one turned 
out the lights. Fighting where one can see is 
bad enough, but in the dark it was too fearsome 
for most of them and instinctively they all crowd¬ 
ed for the light, and the whole punching, snarling 
mob bundled out into the street, where the fight¬ 
ing was continued under more congenial surround¬ 
ings. 

The circus crowd got the worst of it as more 
natives joined in, and presently they beat a stra¬ 
tegic retreat towards the railroad yards, while the 
police and deputy sheriffs intervened and restored 


A New Start 


69 


order. When light was restored it showed the 
parlor to be a shamble, with not a few lying about 
who were nursing sore heads and bruised bodies. 
Dangity, somewhat the worse for wear, succeeded 
in squirming his way through the jam to the rear 
of the place, from whence he fled up the stairs 
to the seclusion of his little room, from where he 
could hear the rumpus still going on out in the 
street below. 

What sort of a place was this which he had got¬ 
ten into? he asked himself. Was this Reno? Was 
this the way he was going to live now, fighting 
with some one nearly every day? If so, he won¬ 
dered whether his change of residence was really 
going to be “for better, or for worse.” after all. 

Being dog-tired, he soon tumbled into bed, and, 
Oh boy! How good that bed felt! He was so 
awfully tired that even the excitement of the eve¬ 
ning did not long disturb him, and he was soon 
buried in a deep sleep; a train wreck or a boiler 
explosion would hardly have bothered him. 

Although he slept soundly, it was by no means 
a pleasant sleep, for uncanny dreams haunted him. 
First he was trying to escape from an angry mob 
who were bent on vengeance, and then it seemed 
that a huge lion was about to tear him to pieces, 
and next it seemed he was shut up in a burning 
hotel from which he found it impossible to find a 
way out. His feet refused to move; first one 
obstacle and then another hindered him, and it 
was impossible to breathe. So desperately did he 
struggle that his frantic efforts awakened him, 
and he was horrified to find the room chokingly 
full of smoke, and to realize that the hotel was 
actually on fire. 


70 Romances of the Rugged Road 

His subconcious parts were evidently trying to 
arouse the rest of him to a sense of his danger. 
Or it might have been his guardian angel, for as 
soon as he awoke these words came to him, “The 
angel of the Lord encampeth round about them 
that fear him to deliver them.” He had not 
thought of this quotation for months, and it must 
be that his mother or some other good soul was 
praying for his safety. He had not awakened a 
moment too soon, for the flames scorched his face 
and his hair as he fought his way out through 
them, and it was with great difficulty that he was 
able to reach the street, gasping and choking for 
breath. 

Here he found an excited bunch of men and a 
few women, who were shouting all sorts of direc¬ 
tions to the little group of firemen who were do¬ 
ing their best to direct a stream of water where 
it would do the most good. “It was them circus 
men who done that,” some one yelled, and another 
shouted, “Yes, you bet; they’re tryin’ to get even 
with us for the way we beat them up las’ night.” 

In the midst of the excitement some one yelled, 
“Lookit there, there’s two men in there yet; I 
seen ’em at the windy lookin’ out,” and at this 
several men attempted to fight their way into the 
building but the flames drove them back, and if 
there were any luckless sinners trapped there 
they were beyond help, and Dangity shuddered 
as he thought how near he came to being one 
more on the list. Without any system of registra¬ 
tion, no one would ever know what had become of 
him. 

“Gee, I’m glad I got out of there alive!” he ex¬ 
claimed to a bystander, who replied, “Yas, you 


A New Start 71 

bet, you can thank your lucky stars you got out 
of that burning hell alive, all right.” 

“I didn’t save any of my things, though, ex¬ 
ceptin’ my gun and what I have on,” he remarked 
regretfully. 

“Don’t let that bother you none. A fella’s bet¬ 
ter travelin’ light in this country anyhow,” his 
adviser informed him. “Well, I’ll sure be light 
enough, then,” Dangity chuckled good-naturedly. 

Any more sleep that night seemed to be out of 
the question for him, so crossing the street he 
entered a gambling-house which was still open, 
and held down one of the spectators’ chairs until 
morning. There seemed to be a very important 
game in progress for even the excitement of the 
fire had not interfered with it, and it still held a 
respectable circle of onlookers. It was a lone¬ 
handed game between the dealer, who was acting 
for the house, and a slender youth who could not 
have been yet twenty years of age. Dangity had 
never seen so much gold in his life as he saw 
stacked up on that gaming-table. Even the local 
bank had never been able to make such a tempt¬ 
ing display of the yellow metal. Every few min¬ 
utes the dealer would go to an old safe, and bring 
out more money. It seemed to be a question as 
to how long the “house” could stand the run, or 
how soon the luck would turn. As he feasted his 
eyes upon the precious pile he began to envy the 
young fellow his prosperity, and to wish he could 
get hold of some of it himself. 

“What if some fellow would try to steal it!” 
he thought, but the sight of two guns lying on 
the table in front of the players convinced him 
that that would be a risky venture. 


72 Romances of the Rugged Road 

While the play was in progress a seedy-looking 
individual went up to the young fellow and asked 
him for some money to eat on, but he turned on 
him with a curse, “Get out of here, you dirty 
bum you, what do you want to do, ruin my luck?” 

“Don’t give him any, young fellow, or it will 
break your luck sure,” some one else spoke up, 
and the fellow slunk away growling about how 
selfish the winner was. When Dangity saw this 
he became angry at the young fellow and said to 
himself, “Oh, shucks, if that’s the way he feels 
about it I don’t want any of his money, besides if 
I stay in this country I’ll have so darn much of 
that stuff I won’t know what to do with it; it will 
be a job to lug it around.” 

He sat with his eyes fixed upon the table, how¬ 
ever, until he must have fallen asleep, for when 
he awoke with a start the game was over, the 
players had disappeared, and what few patrons 
were left were snoring in the chairs around the 
wall. The old dealer was dozing in a chair tilted 
back against the wall, and the rest of the bunch 
were either lying on the tables or were stretched 
out on the floor under them, all sweetly locked 
in the arms of Morpheus, all save one or two who 
made the night hideous with their hollow, con¬ 
sumptive cough. 

Some of these places used to throw the key 
away on the day the place was opened, and they 
were never closed since. The games used to run 
practically all the time, excepting once in a while 
the players would run out of funds, or have to 
stop for food, or some fellow died and the bunch 
turned out to bury him. 

Their places were taken up by a new supply of 


73 


A New Start 

men who came down from the mines or from the 
ranches to see if they couldn’t make money easier 
than plugging a drill, or punching cattle on the 
range, but they always left more than they took 
away. These “houses” used to run on a percent¬ 
age basis; that is, the house gets a percentage of 
the winnings on each game played, and it is easy 
to see that, no matter who wins, the house will 
soon have all the money which is brought into 
the place, if the game runs long enough. 

It was this fact that did so much to abolish 
gambling, as a legal, visible means of support in 
Nevada, although it was one of the last states to 
take gambling from the list of approved occupa¬ 
tions. Somehow or other gambling in one form or 
another has a peculiar fascination for many peo¬ 
ple. It is a very easy way to make money when 
luck is with you, but, oh my! how fast it goes 
when the tide turns! However, I think all of us 
have the gambling instinct to some degree, some 
more and some less, and as long as folks will 
continue to take a chance on matrimony we will 
never be able to say that gambling has been 
entirely eliminated. Dangity had all the ear¬ 
marks of the professional gambler, but he was too 
timid as yet to take any risks when he had so 
little capital to work on. Some day he was to 
play for big stakes. 

The morning opened bright and fair, and it gave 
him a new thrill as he brushed the cobwebs from 
his mind, yawned, stretched and went out on the 
street, where he took several draughts of the crisp, 
fresh air, which was a welcome change from the 
close, foul air of the gambling-house, which fairly 


74 Romances of the Rugged Road 

reeked with fumes of dead tobacco smoke and old 
booze. 

He stood for a few minutes facing the new day, 
wondering what it would bring to him. He felt 
that he was in a new world, a world in which he 
might play many parts, and he was anxious to 
play the right one, for he had been convinced by 
what he saw that there were many who were 
playing the wrong one. 

The great question that confronted him was, 
what should he do next? A gnawing in the region 
of his belt convinced him that the next thing to 
do right then was to find something to eat. How 
the obligation to eat keeps constantly forcing 
itself upon one, and, while he felt that it might be 
true that there were those who only lived to eat, 
he was sure that he was one who must now eat to 
live. 


The Call of the Wild 


75 


CHAPTER IV 
The Call of the Wild 

Having seen something of Reno, he was satis¬ 
fied that this was not the place for him. There 
must be some other place just beyond that was 
better suited for his purpose. He took a turn 
around the few places where one might be apt to 
find work, but there was no work in sight. He 
was very anxious to get into something that would 
lift him above the great mass of the common 
folks he saw around him. His dream of success 
seemed far from being realized. Fate was appar¬ 
ently unkind to him. 

In a restaurant one morning he got into conver¬ 
sation with a likely-looking young fellow who 
advised him to get out onto some of the big 
ranches that lay up in the north country. He 
would like nothing better than to do this, but he 
did not see any opening. “I know,” he mused, 
“I’ve heard a lot of advice about choosing one's 
destiny, and taking hold of the next thing that 
offers, but what are you going to do when there 
isn’t any next thing?” he muttered to himself as 
he tramped around one morning before breakfast, 
looking for work. The realization that he was 
hungry convinced him that the next thing just 
then was to find something to eat again, so, follow¬ 
ing this persistent monitor, he made his way to 


76 Romances of the Rugged Road 

the restaurant where he met his new acquaint¬ 
ance, once more. 

“Hello, Bo, how’s tricks this morning?” his 
friend breezed merrily. “Oh, not so bad; I wish I 
could light onto something to do, so I could earn 
a little money some way, I’m about broke,” he 
answered soberly. 

“I told you what to do! Get out onto some of 
these ranches and grow up with the country; 
that’s the surest way of making money in this 
neck-of-the-woods,” the new friend informed him 
tersely as he sluiced down a couple of sinkers with 
a deluge of black coffee. 

“That’s easy said, but how can I get out there?” 
Dangity inquired resolutely. 

“Go right over here and take that little train 
that runs north. Go out about as far as Amadee 
and you can catch a ride, or walk the rest of the 
way,” his instructor shot back at him quickly. 
“I’m not foolin’ it will make a man of you,” he 
insisted vigorously. 

Much as he hated to leave Reno without having 
made good there, he was convinced that the best 
thing for him to do was to follow his friend’s 
advice and get out into the country where the 
work would build him up and make him strong. 

As he walked along the street the next day, he 
was attracted to a finely marked Arizona pinto 
which stood at the curb securely tied by nothing 
more than a pair of reins which hung loosely from 
the bit and were lying upon the sidewalk. As he 
stood looking at it, a well-dressed young fellow 
came out of a saloon and picking up the reins was 
about to ride off when he noticed Dangity stand¬ 
ing there and smiled at him in a friendly sort of 


77 


The Call of the Wild 

way. Glad to find some one to make up to, 
Dangity spoke to him and the fellow came back 
quickly with a cheery, “Stranger round these 
parts, pardner?” 

“Well, yes, kinda,” Dangity replied. 

“Got any friends out this way?” was the next 
question, to which he replied, “Nope, not a one; 
just come out myself to look around a little.” 

“Well, if you’re on the square, fella, I’ll be your 
friend, and if you’re not God help you, for you 
won’t last long in this country,” his new acquaint¬ 
ance burst out warmly. 

“Guess I’m as square as I know how,” Dangity 
stammered trying to remember when he had done 
anyone a mean turn. “Well, that’s all we expect 
out here, is for a man to be as square as he knows 
how; if he always does that, he’ll get along all 
right,” the fellow replied with a shake of his head. 

His frankness was so transparent that Dangity 
was drawn towards him as one honest nature is 
drawn towards another, but he was taken back a 
moment later when the fellow asked him if he had 
any money. This seemed an impertinence to him, 
but he put down his blunt, straightforward way 
as one of the peculiarities of the country and let 
it go at that, as he admitted that he was on the 
verge of financial ruin. 

“Here, Bo, take this; maybe this will help you 
out until you get onto your feet again,” the 
stranger exclaimed as he put his hand in his 
pocket and handed him a glittering piece of yellow 
metal, which upon examination proved to be a 
ten-dollar gold piece; but Dangity was reluctant 
to accept it, resenting what looked to him like an 
act of charity. Seeing his hesitancy about accept- 


78 Romances of the Rugged Road 

ing the coin, the stranger broke in, “Ya ain’t 
afraid of that are ya, Bo?” 

“No-o, not exactly, but I’ve always been taught 
not to take money from strangers for nothing,” 
Dangity replied, as he stood holding the coin out 
as though he would give it back. 

“Say, Bo, you’ll be glad to take money from a 
dead man if you stick around this country long. 
I’m a little flush today myself, and you look as 
though you could use a few bones, so just keep 
that and don’t ask no questions, but pass it along 
to some other fellow when you get flush yourself,” 
the generous stranger burst out in a brotherly 
sort of way. If this was the way folks did things 
in the West, Dangity was glad that he had mi¬ 
grated to this golden Utopia, and he made up his 
mind to pass along the help he had received to 
some one else if he ever got the opportunity. 

The fellow asked him what he would like to do, 
and when he told him of his ambition to be a cow- 
puncher, the fellow laughed and said, “Well, the 
only thing for you to do is to get out onto some of 
the ranges and take your medicine.” 

A moment later he asked if he had ever done 
any riding, to which Dangity replied, “Oh yes, 
some,” all the time trying hard to recall when it 
had ever been. 

“If you think you can ride, try a little spin on 
my cayuse here,” he suggested, and Dangity, not 
wishing to admit that he had never sat a saddle in 
his life, pluckily agreed to try the pony out and 
was helped into his shaky seat, feeling as proud 
as a monarch upon his throne, and about as uncer¬ 
tain of staying there as many of them have been. 
Whereupon the pony, finding it had a green rider 


79 


The Call of the Wild 

upon its back, started off up the street at a lively 
pace, far too lively in fact, for its new master, 
who, neglecting the reins, grabbed a firm hold of 
the horn and pommel of the saddle and hung on 
for dear life, intending to take no chances of a 
sudden meeting with mother earth. 

It wasn’t long until the pony began to cut up a 
few capers and he soon found himself sliding out 
of the saddle as the thing stood upon its hind feet 
and shook its head. He was game, however, and 
managed to climb back on board, at which the 
pony started up the street again like a rocket, 
stopping suddenly with its head down, while 
Dangity kept right on going. As he lay on the 
ground it stood looking at him as though to say, 
‘‘Well, how did you like that for a flier?” He was 
ready to try it again but the owner came running 
up and cried, “Hey, Bo, that’s enough for now! 
You got some nerve all right, even if you don’t 
know nothin’ about ridin’. The thing for you to 
do is to get out onto a ranch somewhere and they’ll 
make a man of you!” 

Seeing Dangity’s grin, he kept on, “That’s right 
fella; even your own mother won’t know you after 
you’ve been there six months. Lookit me, when 
I started to ride I was skinnier ’an you are, and 
now look at me,” he boasted, as he threw out his 
chest and patted his stomach until Dangity burst 
into a laugh. 

“That’s right, on the square, Bo, you need some¬ 
thing to fill you out, ’bout thirty pounds more I’d 
say.” Dangity blushed at this evident anxiety 
regarding his physical welfare, but he put it down 
as another peculiarity of the country, and as he 
watched him loping off up the street swaying like 


80 Romances of the Rugged Road 

a girl in a rocking chair, and noted his well 
rounded form, he envied him just a little. 

The fellow’s encouraging words, coupled with 
the ten new dollars which he was able to add to his 
slender reserve, put new heart into him, and he 
felt like a new person as he shrugged his shoul¬ 
ders and walked down the street with a firmer 
tread. ‘Til be as big and as husky as any of those 
fellows yet, some day,” he mused as he walked 
along, “and you can just bet your bottom dollar 
I’ll make good out here too; see if I don’t.” This 
is what he wanted to say to some one, but, being 
alone, he said it to himself. 

The next morning he bid good-bye to Reno, and 
took the train which ran towards the north, deter¬ 
mined to put the advice he had received to the 
test. 

It was a fine clear day with not a shadow to be 
seen anywhere. This was nothing unusual, for 
clear days are more prevalent in Nevada than in 
any other part of the country. The sun pours out 
his golden rays for weeks at a stretch with never 
a cloud to mar the brightness of his glory, and 
withal the air is clear and bracing, exhilarating, 
health-giving. It is no wonder that folks who 
suffer from the blues are advised to seek the high, 
dry, invigorating climate of Nevada. With nights 
just cool enough for sleeping purposes, it is a well 
known fact that its exuberant atmosphere will 
put new life into the worst old jaded physical 
“has-been” that ever lived. Under the spell of 
these beneficent surroundings it is little wonder 
that Dangity was in high spirits as he faced the 
new day, as the train carried him towards the 
scene of new conquests and adventures. His 


81 


The Call of the Wild 

dreams revived with a new chance of being ful¬ 
filled. He was filled with good cheer and a deter¬ 
mination to make good at all hazards. As far as 
he knew he hadn't an enemy in all the wide world, 
but then he wasn’t aware of what was going on at 
Slowtown since he left. 

The few troubles he had met with were rapidly 
sinking into the sea of forgetfulness as more 
pleasant conditions supplanted them in his mem¬ 
ory. He felt that in some measure he was being 
borne along upon a tide of circumstances over 
which he had little control, and then he was not 
sure that he wished to control them if he could. 
It is sometimes easier to let “that destiny which 
shapes our ends, rough-hew them as we will,” 
carry us on to unknown fields, than it is to spend 
a lot of energy in trying to bend circumstances to 
suit some preconceived notion which we have by 
some means acquired. 

The strange caprices of fate have exerted a sin¬ 
ister influence in determining the activities of 
what the world is pleased to call its great men. 
Of what benefit had been the plodding exertions of 
a Grant or a Lincoln without the unforeseen emer¬ 
gency of a great war, which threw them unex¬ 
pectedly into the lime-light of public action. It is 
easier to allow circumstance to control us, at 
times, than it is to control circumstance, although 
Bonaparte is said to be the author of the state¬ 
ment, “Don’t wait for circumstances, make them!” 
Just now he was willing to allow circumstances to 
make him. 

He felt that he would follow whatever opportu¬ 
nity presented itself, until he at least could dic¬ 
tate the fortunes of fate. Having time to collect 


82 Romances of the Rugged Road 

his thoughts and do some thinking as the train 
rolled along, it suddenly occurred to him that he 
had not written a line home since he left it, and 
he upbraided himself mildly for this stupid over¬ 
sight, promising himself to do so as soon as he 
reached the first postoffice; and then all of a sud¬ 
den it struck him that it would be much more 
romantic not to write home at all, but to let them 
wait until he could walk in on them some day and 
take them all by surprise, as though he had come 
back from the dead. 

“Gee, won’t they be wondering what has be¬ 
come of me, and then just as they have given up 
all hope of ever seeing me again, I’ll drop in and 
take them by surprise,” he chuckled to himself 
as this brilliant idea took possession of him. This 
idea of a romance may be very entertaining to 
the one who is doing the romancing, but to the 
lonesome, anxious ones who are doing the waiting 
and watching at home for the letter that never 
comes, I doubt if there is much romance in it for 
them. What looks like romance to the one may 
seem to be just pure downright foolishness, or 
even pure cussedness, to the other. But Dangity 
was so taken up with his new surroundings that 
it was easy for him to forget the past; in fact, it 
was almost impossible not to do so, so he dis¬ 
missed the promise to write from his mind. 

The day was well past the meridian when the 
train reached Amadee, a little town on the north¬ 
ern end of Honey Lake, in Lassen county, Cali¬ 
fornia. Here it was learned the road had been 
torn up by a heavy washout farther north, and 
it would be necessary to travel the rest of the way 
by stage-coach, and, as this would not start until 


The Call of the Wild 83 

the following morning, it was necessary to seek 
accommodations for the night. 

There wasn’t much to Amadee, but it did boast 
of a few stores and a fairly good hotel, where he 
engaged a room and spent the evening listening to 
the stories of the natives who gathered around 
the stove in the lobby to pass the evening, the only 
means of amusement which the town afforded. 

As he sat with open mouth, ears and eyes, 
drinking in the blood-curdling stories of earlier 
pioneer days, he congratulated himself on coming 
to a place which boasted of such a romantic his¬ 
tory as this did, and even if all the stories weren’t 
true no doubt enough of them were to make life 
here very interesting. 

“This place seems to have a history,” he said 
to a man who sat near him and who seemed to be 
an old resident. “A history! Well I should say it 
has! I reckon there’s been more men died with 
their boots on around about here than in any 
territory of the same size in these United States,” 
he exclaimed as he hitched one knee over the 
other and stared at Dangity as if he were an 
object of pity. 

“My, my! is that so?” Dangity gasped. 

“Yep, thet’s the gospel truth,” another chipped 
in as he stroked his pointed beard. “Remember 
the dude es got killed here a few years ago?” a 
lanky, raw-boned individual asked of every one in 
general and no one in particular. 

“You mean the bird thet come from Chicago?” 
several asked at once. 

“Yep, that’s the fella. Funny, wasn’t it, how 
his brother took on when he heered what had 


84 Romances of the Rugged Road 

happened to ’im, wan’t it?” the first speaker con¬ 
tinued. 

“Yas, it was; but let’s see, you tell us how it 
happened, Bill,” some one spoke up, whereupon 
Bill proceeded to relate the strange affair just 
mentioned. 

“You see, it was like this: He hadn’t written 
home for so long that his brother came out to see 
what had become of him. He went up to the 
hotel where he was stoppin’ and asked about him. 
‘Oh, yes,’ the boss says, ‘I know who you mean, 
why he’s dead.’ 

“ ‘Dead!’ says his brother. ‘Yes, dead,’ the boss 
replies. ‘How in time did he die?’ ‘Committed 
suicide,’ the boss says, as calm as a cucumber. 
‘Suicide!’ My sakes, you don’t mean to tell me 
that; how did he ever do it?’ ‘Well, you see, it 
was just like this,’ the landlord told him: ‘That 
brother o’ yourn made some slightin’ remarks 
about some ladies es lived in this here camp, ’nd 
after it was over the boys picked him up ’nd 
buried him right up there on the side o’ the hill 
yonder,’ ” old Bill explained as solemn as a judge 
as he looked around from one to the other of the 
little company. 

“Yas, I reckon the’s jist two things es will git a 
man in bad in these parts, ’nd one of ’em is stealin’, 
’nd the tother is castin’ reflections on the ladies,” 
soliloquized old Shasta Jim, as he borrowed a few 
rounds of ammunition from a friend in order that 
he might not be minus the necessary elements of 
protection until the hardware store opened next 
morning. 

With these and other like tales the company 
regaled the hours until Dangity was compelled to 


85 


The Call of the Wild 

seek refuge in sleep, and as he crawled into bed 
he wondered whether the stories he had listened 
to were authentic, or if they had been recited for 
his especial benefit. 

An early call brought him down to breakfast at 
sunrise, and this was just finished when the 
coach drove up to the door and the passengers 
climbed aboard. It was one of those old-fashioned 
contraptions which seemed old enough to be of 
prehistoric origin. It had served at one time 
along the main line of travel across the continent, 
but the advent of the railroad had crowded it off 
onto a branch line, and gradually it was being 
forced farther back into the interior with the 
advance of civilization. It had borne mute evi¬ 
dence to many an “affair’’ in its day, and if it, in 
company with some of the other old “Deadwood” 
coaches could talk, what interesting tales of 
adventure might regale the hours. Some of those 
old early-day mysteries might furnish interesting 
material for the modern story writers and news¬ 
paper men. 

Six men and one lone woman made up the com¬ 
plement of passengers who lined up for the trip. 
The lady, being given the choice of position, chose 
the seat on the boot, beside the driver, and the 
men found accommodations as best they could. 
Great sacks of mail matter took up all the remain¬ 
ing space, being piled on the back and over the 
top of the coach, until there was scarcely room 
for any one to move. A box containing the 
express matter was placed under the driver’s feet 
for safe-keeping. The party were all in the best 
of spirits as the four stout horses sprang into the 
collar and hit the trail for the journey. 


86 Romances of the Rugged Road 

The men were not long in getting acquainted, 
and the rest of the party soon sensed the fact that 
the slim youth was a tenderfoot, and Dangity 
knew that they knew that he knew what they 
were thinking about. The party consisted of one 
fat man who gave evidence of being powerful 
regular to his meals; a smaller middle-aged man 
who looked like a drummer; two rougher-looking 
fellows, one a big brawny man, and the other a 
short bull-necked fellow, both of whom bore every 
appearance of being of the earth earthy; a young 
man who looked like a professional man of some 
sort; and Dangity. 

The first man was a gambler who was on his 
way to open up a new house in one of the newer 
towns. He imparted this information gratui¬ 
tously as they got into conversation. ‘‘Seems to 
me I wouldn’t like that kind of business,” Dangity 
remarked. “Well, I don’t know that it’s any 
worse than lots of other kinds of business, and 
there’s lots of money in it if you get in a good 
place, and then the law licenses it, and a fella has 
to make a dollar wherever he can these days,” the 
gambler concluded, as an excuse for his profession 
more than for any other reason. 

“I can tell ya, I’ve had to dig mighty hard for 
all I made with these two hands of mine; no easy 
money ever come my way,” one of the men, who 
proved to be a miner, broke in; and the other, who 
seemed to be his companion, backed this up with a 
“me too, pardner,” as he shook his head and held 
up a pair of caloused hands. 

“Well, I’m sure the man who works always has 
a good appetite for one thing,” Dangity ventured, 
in order to keep the conversation from lagging. 


87 


The Call of the Wild 

“Appetite! Holy smokes! Everybody has a 
good appetite in this country; the great question 
out here is to find something to supply that appe¬ 
tite with,” the drummer broke in with a laugh, in 
which the others joined, and Dangity offered no 
more suggestions that day. 

“Where do you hail from, stranger?” the profes¬ 
sional-looking man next spoke up, looking at 
Dangity. “Why, I come from the East,” he 
replied. 

“Oh, I knew that; but what part of the East are 
you from?” 

“From Maine,” he replied shortly. “From 
Maine, eh? Well, you’ll find things different in 
this country; those staid, old-fashioned folks back 
there don’t know they’re alive till they get out 
here and see how we do things in the West,” he 
ejaculated with an air of wisdom and superiority. 
But Dangity felt that he was altogether too severe 
on the people from his native state, and came back 
at his interrogator in a burst of indignation: 

“I reckon the folks from Maine can be as proud 
of their record as any one can, and besides if it 
wasn’t for the people who came here from the 
East this country would be a wilderness yet, and 
the people wouldn’t know who wrote the consti¬ 
tution.” 

“Ho, ho! So that’s what you think about it, eh ? 
Well, you’ll open your eyes before you’re here 
long,” the smooth gentleman informed him curtly. 

Hearing that he was from Maine, they all tried 
to take a fall out of him, so to speak, and the 
gambler was especially hostile to Maine because of 
its efforts to enforce the prohibition laws. “Why, 


88 Romances of the Rugged Road 

there was more booze sold in Maine during prohi¬ 
bition than in any other state of its size in the 
Union,” he asserted. 

“Well, if that’s the case, why is it the whiskey 
crowd are always fighting prohibition?” Dangity 
asked. The gambler couldn’t give any satisfac¬ 
tory answer to that question, nor neither has 
anyone else ever been able to do so. 

With the rough, good-natured banter that 
passed from one to the other he found it easy to 
get acquainted with these men. The frank, demo¬ 
cratic way of the westerner has always been a 
novelty to the stiff formalist from the esthetic 
East. A man is taken here for what he is, not 
for what his father used to be; it is not the past, 
but the present, that interests the natives. 

The story is told of Mark Twain that when he 
first went to live in Virginia City he retained the 
old eastern custom of asking every one he met all 
about their friends and relations, and their past 
history. One day an old-timer tapped him on the 
shoulder and said, “Say, young feller, I ben a 
lis’nin’ to your line of questions around here for 
some time, but let me tell you somethin’, we don’t 
ast no questions here, we’re all satisfied to let 
bygones be bygones, you know some folks might 
have a record.” Mark concluded to cut out asking 
questions after that. Supposing a man does have 
a past, or a woman either, they can come to this 
new country where they can start all over again, 
especially if the other starts have been failures. 

Of this new land it might well be said, 

“It is not birth, nor wealth, nor state, 

But it’s git up and git, that makes men great.” 


89 


The Call of the Wild 

To lots of folks the West has meant the land of 
the great tomorrow—the land where fate often 
consents to deal to each player in the great game 
of life an entirely new hand, and it has meant to 
them a new heaven as well as a new earth. 

“Let the fellows who wish to, stay at home 
there and roll ribbons, or push pens, or peddle 
potatoes, but as for me give me this great out- 
of-doors which fires the imagination, tickles the 
fancy and stirs the ambitions of one's soul," 
Dangity exclaimed under his breath as he looked 
out upon the beauty and grandeur of the sur¬ 
rounding country. The scenery here is wild and 
primitive, and seems to breathe the very spirit of 
romance. To the east the plains roll away into 
the distance out past Pyramid Lake, with here and 
there an isolated butte standing like a lone sentry 
on guard, while to the west the snow-capped peaks 
of the Sierras glisten in the sun. Here nature 
seemingly has thrown all of its stupendous ener¬ 
gies into weaving striking contrasts of surpassing 
beauty and magnitude. To one who possessed to 
a fine degree the ability to appreciate the wonders 
and the majesty of nature, as Dangity did, such 
surroundings were likely to increase his pulse- 
beats until he began to think that there must be 
something puny or feminine about the fellow who 
would choose an indoor occupation with nature 
calling him so loudly into the wild. 

While it was true that this new life held out 
great promise, it was also evident that it might be 
beset with hardships, but these he felt would only 
serve to make him strong. It was said that 
Caesar’s enemies had him sent into the cold 


90 Romances of the Rugged Road 

regions of northern Europe in the hope that the 
rigors of the severe climate would kill him off, 
but his indomitable spirit would not yield to hard¬ 
ship, and instead the cold only made him the 
stronger. 

If this new life offered hardship, it also offered 
adventure, and under the spur of this he was confi¬ 
dent that he would be able to do exploits. It is 
true that he was a dreamer, and one of the silent 
kind who kept his dreams to himself; but he had 
them, nevertheless, but he feared to tell them to 
any one else, for he knew they would likely excite 
only ridicule, so he refused to divulge them. 

His father used to say that every one has his 
dream world into which he retires at times, but 
the trouble with most of us is that we only live 
and die in the dream world. It is the one who 
puts his dreams into action who makes any 
impress on the things which surround him. Hav¬ 
ing cherished these ideas in his head for years, 
it now began to look as though he might be able 
to transform some of them into action. Whether 
it was the thought of this or the rattle of the 
wheels over the hard road that charmed him, I am 
not prepared to say, but whatever the cause he 
was in a hilarious mood, and felt that nothing 
should daunt or deter him from his purpose; he 
would steel himself against every adverse influ¬ 
ence which came his way. It is well that youth 
starts out with such an overload of enthusiasm 
and confidence, for it will certainly slow down 
along the way. 

The morning passed with joke and story and 
good-natured banter until noon found them, 


91 


The Call of the Wild 

happy, but hungry and dusty, at the first stopping- 
place outside of Amadee. Here, after a hurried 
and skimpy attempt at washing up, they all filed 
into a little frame building which was honored 
by being called “The Dining Parlor.” They 
needed no coaxing in order to do full justice to 
the tempting meal which graced the board. 

It is time now, however, that we got acquainted 
with the lady of the party. She was a trim little 
piece of humanity, looked to be about twenty 
summers, and had a charming personality and 
carried herself as though she had been reared 
under the refining influence of the best schools. 
Neatly dressed in a plain grey traveling suit, she 
was easily the chief object of admiration, not 
only to the little party of travelers, but to the 
gaping natives as well. Her animated chatter 
which she directed at the driver during the trip 
showed that she was in the best of spirits and was 
delighted with her experience. She did not real¬ 
ize that there might be trouble ahead; but then 
why anticipate ? 

After dinner the party were given a few min¬ 
utes to exercise and stretch their limbs, while four 
fresh horses were being put in to replace the old 
ones. Before starting, the driver walked around 
carefully examining the outfit. He was a stocky, 
well built man, and his heavy grey mustache indi¬ 
cated that he must be well past middle life. A 
brace of pistols of a healthy-looking caliber hung 
from a leather belt about his waist, while his 
strong features and firm set lower jaw gave one 
the impression that he was a man who would 
“stick” should anyone undertake to dispute his 
right to the trail. 


92 Romances of the Rugged Road 

A lumberjack leaning against the porch of the 
hotel hitched at his trousers and, eyeing the driver 
keenly, said, “Ya ain’t lookin’ fer no trouble this 
time, be ya Dick?” This was answered by a short 
“nope” from the driver as the cry of “all aboard” 
was sounded and he climbed into his seat and 
gathered up the reins as the passengers scrambled 
into place, and then as if he considered this short 
answer insufficient he added, “Dick Winters never 
looks fer no trouble, but if ther’s any trouble is a 
lookin’ fer me it’ll find me right in me place. Him 
as is born to be hung’ll never be shot,” he yelled 
back over his shoulder as he cracked his long 
whip and the horses sprang into the collar, and 
the little party was on its way again. 

During the afternoon the lady changed places 
with the drummer, and now rode on the inside. 
Being seated next to Dangity, they were soon 
engaged in conversation. It was hard to get 
started, as he was quite shy, being in no sense of 
the term a ladies’ man, but she was an expert 
in her way and soon succeeded in drawing him out 
until he wondered at his own freedom. 

“How are you enjoying the trip?” he asked 
shyly. 

“Oh, my! I think it’s just wonderful!” she 
replied spiritedly. Several minutes of silence and 
then he ventured, “How far are you going?” 

“Why, I’m going to Alturas first; I have a 
brother there who wrote me to come and take 
charge of a school near there. You see I have 
been bothered with throat trouble and we thought 
the change of climate would do me good, and so 
here I am,” she rattled on without once stopping 
for breath. 


93 


The Call of the Wild 

‘Til say you’re cornin’ to the right place, girlie, 
if there’s anythin' wrong with your throat,” the 
gambler broke in, but she was a little taken back 
at his familiarity. 

Dangity kept shifting his gaze from the lure 
of the outside scenery to the attractive features 
of his companion, and after a pause and with con¬ 
siderable effort, he turned to her and said, “I 
think you’re a brave girl to come all this distance 
alone,” and when she smiled back at him he col¬ 
ored to the roots of his hair and looked away out 
of the window at his side again, as she replied 
naively, “Do you really think so, Mr-r—” “Fay,” 
he volunteered as he finished the sentence for her. 

“You just bet I do think so, and I’m not fooling 
either,” he insisted when he caught her laughing 
at him. 

“Oh, I don’t know; men are such flatterers, you 
can never tell when they mean what they say,” 
she replied more soberly. 

“Men aren’t the only ones who can play at that 
game,” he came back ungallantly, although for 
the life of him he couldn’t tell how he ever man¬ 
aged to do so. The other men made vain efforts 
to break into the conversation, but their remarks 
were not as welcome to the young lady as were 
the frank, transparent words of Dangity, for they 
spoke with such boldness that their statements 
often came as a shock to her refined and sensitive 
taste. On the other hand, Dangity felt that in 
traveling alone among these strange men she 
needed the protection of a knight-errant such as 
he, and he was prepared to give her that assist¬ 
ance. It is strange that when one woman travels 
alone among a lot of men each one feels it his 


94 Romances of the Rugged Road 

particular calling to shield and protect her from 
the advances of the rest of the group, so she is 
always sure of plenty of protection. 

I presume this instinct was meant for the pres¬ 
ervation of the weak against the ravages of the 
strong, but it makes one laugh to think of how 
each man thinks that a woman is always safer 
with him than with any other member of the race, 
and this seemed true of the other men. 

They threw some jibes and hints his way, but 
Dangity was too dense to appreciate them. The 
professor was especially jealous of his attentions 
to the lady passenger and he tried vainly to attract 
her attention his way, but failing in this he 
invited Dangity to change seats with him. 

“No, thank you,” he replied, “I’m quite com¬ 
fortable here.” 

“Yes, I know, but you can see the scenery better 
from where I’m sitting,” he persisted. Dangity 
was not to be lured away from his position and 
asked the professor if he had ever heard the story 
of the dog who stood on the bridge and held a 
chunk of meat in his teeth while he looked at his 
shadow in the water? 

“You know he soon dropped the substance and 
grabbed at the shadow, and then he lost both. 
Well, I’m not a dog.” The laugh was on the pro¬ 
fessor and he concluded to let this uncultivated- 
looking greenhorn alone. 


The Trail Grows Rougher 


95 


CHAPTER V 

The Trail Grows Rougher 

The roads being in good condition and the 
horses fresh, they covered a good stretch of 
ground that afternoon. 

The shades of evening were beginning to fall 
and the sun had just bid the world farewell when 
they drew up at the little town where they were 
to spend the night. The hotel was the most pre¬ 
tentious-looking building in the place, but the rest 
of the buildings were small and there was an air 
of desertion everywhere, except for a few rough¬ 
looking men who gathered around for the mail. 
The sight of them reminded Dangity of the folks 
who no doubt were doing the same thing back 
home in Slowtown. 

He had planned to act as a bodyguard to the 
lady passenger, but she declined his offers of 
assistance, even refusing to allow him to help her 
out of the coach, much to his chagrin, or to aid 
her in finding her way into the alleged hotel. 
“Well, I vum, something of an independent critter 
after all, I’ll say,” he muttered to himself as he 
trailed along behind the rest of the bunch. “I 
guess she’ll be glad enough to have some one help 
her if she stays long in this country.” A state¬ 
ment he was destined to prove the truth of before 
another sun should set. 


96 Romances of the Rugged Road 

A smoky old oil lamp was vainly trying to over¬ 
come the intense darkness of the office and was 
really having a hard time establishing its own 
identity. The dining-room was a little better, as 
here they enlisted the assistance of a number of 
sputtering candles and these augmented the light 
of the lamp to such an extent that one could 
actually recognize a friend at four paces. 

But oh, the supper! How shall I describe it? 
Nothing better, nor more enticing, was ever 
served to a bunch of hungry travelers. To 
attempt to go into detail would be almost impos¬ 
sible, but I might say that fresh, tender venison, 
browned to the king's taste, with roast beef, 
stewed rabbit, roast fowl and some fine brook 
trout made up the heavier part of the meal, with 
bread, pies and cakes topping off the list, not to 
mention sundry trimmings which added flavor to 
the rest of the food. Dangity said long after¬ 
wards that the thought of the supper always made 
him hungry, and that he never enjoyed anything 
so much in all his life, although I fear the last 
meal with him was always the best one. 

Possessed of a keen appetite, whetted to a fine 
edge by the crisp mountain air, and seated in 
front of a repast of this nature with all the 
restrictions removed, it goes without saying, that 
each one partook of the tempting viands to their 
utmost capacity. The eyes of the fat drummer 
glistened in anticipation, and, as he slid his fork 
into a large piece of venison, he repeated his grace 
which consisted of a well known quotation from 
somewhere, “May good digestion wait upon good 
appetite,” to which the others grunted an “amen.” 


97 


The Trail Grows Rougher 

As they were leaving the table the gambler 
remarked, “I tell ya, fellas, it’s a lucky thing we 
don’t have to go no further tonight, for I don’t 
know whether I could climb into that pesky coach 
now or not.” Dangity felt like the little boy at 
the church supper, who, when his father came to 
lift him down from the table said, “Yes, Daddy, 
you can lift me, but be careful and don’t bend me.” 

The evening passed pleasantly in gossip and 
story-telling, in which each one took a hand. 
Dangity was not very strong in this line but he 
did manage to make a few remarks which got by 
safely. The teacher was an adept and was able to 
keep the party amused and entertained for hours. 
Both the gambler and the drummer semed to be 
good story-tellers, but it was evident that they 
were used to entertaining a rougher crowd than 
was present this evening, and they were somewhat 
handicapped by this fact. When they became too 
rough a scowl from Dangity had a dampening 
effect upon their ardor, and more than once they 
turned upon him with a look which plainly said, 
“I’d like to take you out somewhere and wring 
your neck, you young prude you!” He was the 
youngest and weakest person in the bunch and 
yet just his little frown of disapproval was suffi¬ 
cient to affect the tenor of the conversation of 
those who made the common error of substituting 
scandal for humor. Shakespeare has well said, 
“Thus conscience doth make cowards of us all.” 

Representing, as they did, all shades of society 
from the refined and cultured teacher from the 
well tutored east to the rough product of the 
newer west, still they were all able to fraternize 
upon common ground and each in turn learned 


98 Romances of the Rugged Road 

something from the rest of the party. By coming 
in contact with others Dangity was learning to 
judge folks more accurately by the things they 
said and did, and he was proving as he went along 
that travel does broaden one and helps them to 
understand folks better. 

He slept so soundly it seemed he had only gone 
to bed when he was aroused by the heavy voice of 
the landlord routing out his patrons for an early 
breakfast. Oh my, how easily he could have slept 
a few hours longer, but the realization of the fact 
that he must get up unless he wanted to miss the 
coach, roused him from his lethargy, and brought 
him face to face with the fact that he was now 
his own boss and if he overslept there was no one 
to grieve over it but himself. The rest of the 
party were not concerned as to what he chose to 
do, but it was up to him now, so he lost no time 
in tumbling down the creaky stairs to the office. 
Despite the fact that when he finished supper it 
did not seem that he would want any food again 
for a week, he found his appetite in very good 
condition, something which spoke well for his 
chances of increasing his weight if he stayed long 
in this country. 

The sun was just peeping over the hilltops when 
the coach rattled up to the door, and the cheery, 
good-natured bunch piled into it and were soon on 
their way. There was some argument as to who 
would sit next to the lady passenger, but this was 
settled by the gambler proposing that the men 
toss up to see who the lucky dog should be, and, 
strange to say, it was won by Dangity, much to 
the discomfiture of certain of his rivals. Old Dick, 
the driver, made the strongest objection, saying, 


99 


The Trail Grows Rougher 

“I don’t like this a little bit, young feller, you 
takin’ my gal away from me this-a-way. I reck¬ 
oned I was in fer a pleasant time this trip, but 
here by gum you come along and take her plumb 
away from me.” 

“I opine that’s just like womenfolks anyhow, 
they’re always leavin’ the old fellas for the young 
ones; it’s the same the world over,” the drummer, 
who must have been on the shady side of fifty 
himself, spoke up. 

As the coach moved off, old Dick hollered down 
through the little door in the top, “Well, young 
feller, if anything happens along the road, you’ll 
hev ta take care o’ that gal now.” To which 
Dangity shouted back, “All right, if anybody 
hurts her they’ll have to kill me first,” not dream¬ 
ing that before the day was over he would have 
to fight for his own life as well as hers. 

The clear morning air marked another of those 
perfect days which so often characterize the foot¬ 
hill country of Lassen county. There was a 
dreamy salubriousness and a haunting stillness in 
the atmosphere which was broken only by the 
little party as it moved along. Sometimes it was 
the clatter of the hoofs, or the rattle of the wheels, 
or an occasional peal of laughter which sounded 
the dominant note. At times the strains of a song 
rang out to the accompaniment of the driver’s 
whistle. Altogether it was a happy group, each 
member of which seemed to have bidden farewell 
forever to dull and carping care. 

This being the second day that the teacher and 
Dangity had been sitting “side by each,” they 
began to excite not only the envy but the curiosity 
of the other occupants of the coach. This rolling 



100 Romances of the Rugged Road 

along for hours in close proximity to each other 
was conducive to mutual attraction and we should 
not be surprised if each should sense the kindling 
of that faint and fickle glow which may lead at 
times to more than admiration. Not that Dangity 
was falling in love—not that—for had he not 
firmly set a watch upon the portals to his affec¬ 
tions in order that no unwelcome intruder might 
enter there? However, they both cared less for 
the observations of others, and became more and 
more interested in purely personal affairs, a very 
significant omen, I can assure you. 

The passing hours disclosed an abundance of 
wild game, but produced no evidence of the pres¬ 
ence of the human branch of the species. Now 
and then a deer would bound away through the 
brush, or an old bear would blink at them from 
some jutting rock, or a parcel of coyotes would 
scamper away at their approach. 

“What a lovely time the wild animals have, 
nothing to worry about, and a chance to go wher¬ 
ever they wish/’ the teacher purred in Dangity’s 
ear. 

“Yes, I wish I was as free as they are, all 
pleasure in this world, and nothing to worry about 
in the next. When they die that’s the end of it 
all as far as they’re concerned,” he conjectured 
with an air of indifference. 

“You wouldn’t want to die like a beast, would 
you, and think that was all there was in life?” 
she inquired of him eagerly. 

“I don’t know why that wouldn’t be all right, it 
would save us a lot of worry about what is to 
become of us, I’m sure,” he answered as though he 
believed what he said. 



101 


The Trail Grows Rougher 

“Well, I think we’re going to have a lot better 
time in the next world than we have had in this 
one, and I can tell you firmly I wouldn’t want to 
exchange my chances with any animal I’ve seen, 
not even a bird,” she laughed contagiously, at 
which the gambler spoke up and said that if he 
had his choice he would like to be a bear in the 
next world, because they could sleep six months 
without eating or working, and he thought that 
would just suit him. The professor said he would 
like to be an elephant, because if he had to travel 
around as much in the next world as he did in this, 
he would always be able to carry his “trunk” with 
him. It was with such joking and repartee that 
the afternoon passed pleasantly until the shadows 
of the mountains were being penciled across the 
plains, when the road turned into a heavily wooded 
ravine. The party had been in high spirits, sing¬ 
ing and laughing, but as they entered the narrow 
defile the music died away. 

For the first time Dangity began to think of the 
possibility of being held up. “Wouldn’t it be 
great if we got held up along here somewhere’s?” 
he chuckled merrily. 

“Held up! My goodness, I hope nothing like 
that happens,” the girl gasped. “’Most every year 
some one does get stuck up in this country; they 
say there’s a bad gang working around here some¬ 
where’s now,” the gambler added, like one of 
Job’s comforter’s, “but let ’em come, I’m ready 
for ’em,” he concluded as his face darkened and 
he drew a serviceable-looking automatic from his 
pocket, which caused a chill to creep over the 
surface of the lady passenger. 

“We might as well have all there is on the pro- 


102 Romances of the Rugged Road 

gram,” Dangity laughed. 'Tor my part I’d like 
to see a little excitement of some sort.” 

"Oh, yes, that’s all right for you men to talk 
like that, but just think of poor little me. What 
would I do if I lost everything I had in the world, 
and money so scarce, too,” she exclaimed. 

"Mighty lucky if you don’t lose more’n your 
money,” the old miner grinned, at which the lady 
looked as if she would ask him what he meant, 
but evidently thinking better of her intentions, 
she changed her mind and said instead, "Well, 
losing one’s money is bad enough, it seems to me.” 

"Money ain’t much when you stack it up along¬ 
side o’ your life, or your honor either,” the old 
miner replied suggestively, peering out of the win¬ 
dow apprehensively. 

As for Dangity, he had nothing of value to lose, 
aside from his old pistol and a little loose change. 
He wasn’t worrying, because when a fellow has 
lost all he has there is nothing left to worry about. 

The road soon wound out into the open again, 
and they all breathed easier. They had not gone 
far, however, until the trail took a sharp bend 
around the point of a bluff that jutted out into the 
path of the little stream which they were follow¬ 
ing, and as they rounded this point they came sud¬ 
denly upon a band of horsemen who were evidently 
coming to meet them and had been taken by sur¬ 
prise. They were all masked and well armed, and 
no sooner had old Dick clapped his eye on them, 
than he slammed on the brakes, reined in his 
horses, and picked up a rifle which lay beside him 
on the seat. He knew full well that the trouble 
which the lumberjack had spoken of the day 
before, was now hard upon him. 


103 


The Trail Grows Rougher 

As soon as the coach rounded the bend the 
horsemen started for it with a rush, but old Dick 
was too quick for them, for, without waiting for 
any introductions, he opened fire at once, causing 
one of the party to throw up his hands and fall 
to the ground. This drew a return fire from the 
riders, who came straight at the coach, firing as 
they came up. Old Dick got another before they 
reached him and carried the fighting to close 
quarters. 

The fat traveling-man was riding on the boot 
beside the driver, because he wanted to see all 
that was going on. He saw it all; saw a lot more 
than he wanted to see, and at the last spectacle 
he turned ashen white, and threw his hands so 
high into the air that he could feel his fingers 
among the stars, so to speak. Fortunately he was 
not hit during the fusillade, but this was owing to 
the fact that the robbers directed their attention 
towards taking care of old Dick instead of wasting 
any good ammunition on him. Most of his life 
had been spent in taking care of his pink skin, 
and he was very anxious that it should not be 
perforated at any time in any way. In this 
respect he was the direct opposite of the man who 
sat beside him, for old Dick was a fighter to the 
manner born, and never considered his own per¬ 
sonal safety. He had been placed in charge of the 
coach on this trip for the reason that the owners 
knew he was a man would fight to the last ditch, 
rather than surrender anything which had been 
placed in his care. He said to the manager before 
leaving, “I got a presentment that I'm in fer 
trouble this time, somehow or other." 

“Oh pshaw, Dick!" the manager exclaimed, 


104 Romances of the Rugged Road 

“the bad lands are all quiet now, there isn’t any 
danger of anything happening; besides, I know 
you well enough to know that you can take care 
of yourself. Don’t let anything like that worry 
you, at all.” But in spite of the confident tone of 
the manager, Dick could not escape from the pre¬ 
sentiment he had that something was going to 
happen. He was a cool and crafty old scout, an 
expert shot, and an absolute stranger to fear, and 
when the fighting got close he used his automatic 
with good effect. 

The robbers were infuriated at his refusal to 
surrender, and they cursed him roundly for an 
old fool as they turned their guns on him. Poor 
fellow, he was foolish, for he was no match for 
their superior numbers, and soon a shot reached 
a vulnerable place and he toppled over onto the 
footboard. 

What was happening to the rest of the party? 
Let us see. The party within the coach were filled 
with varying emotions. The two prospectors 
thought only of their safety. They had no inter¬ 
est in the disposal of the valuables, and were 
anxious to live as long as possible, for neither of 
them had as yet made his pile. As it happened, 
the coach stopped beside a clump of bushes which 
grew on the side of the bank, and the moment it 
did so, having been warned by the fusillade that 
something was up, they both sought safety in 
flight, by leaping straight into the bushes and 
rolling down the bank, and thus escaped. 

The schoolma’am gave a little cry of fright 
when the shots rang out, and she clutched 
Dangity’s arm when the coach stopped, and hung 
on for dear life. 


105 


The Trail Grows Rougher 

“Now, don't be afraid, don't be afraid, I’ll take 
care of you," he cautioned as he patted her arm. 
She closed her eyes and her lips moved as if in 
prayer and as Dangity looked at her he thought 
how helpless she was in a situation like this, and 
he was glad that he was a man and, as such, he 
made up his mind to defend this helpless woman 
even at the risk of his life. 

As I said at the beginning of this story, Dangity 
was no coward, he was just timid, hesitant, back¬ 
ward, but he had plenty of nerve and all he needed 
was some such emergency as this to call it into 
being. This sort of game roused all the latent 
energies of his heroic soul, and he pricked up his 
ears at the sound of the shooting, like a hound 
which has scented the trail. 

The gambler drew his gun and prepared to sit 
in at the game, for his gambling instincts pre¬ 
vented him from sitting still while a game of 
chance such as this was in progress. True, the 
odds were against him, but he rarely stopped to 
figure odds when called upon to play. He had 
looked into a gun more than once in his twenty- 
odd years in the west and this did not scare him. 
He figured life itself a game of chance, in which 
fate might allow us to cut the cards occasionally, 
but in which we are expected to play our hands as 
they come to us—no whining, and no welching— 
play! He looked about for an opportunity to use 
his gun, but he hesitated for fear of drawing the 
fire of the robbers towards them on account of 
the presence of the young lady. 

When the driver lunged forward onto the foot¬ 
board, it gave the horses such a fright that they 
sprang forward with a lurch which threw the 


106 Romances of the Rugged Road 

drummer off the seat, for you will remember he 
had both hands in the air and was unable to pro¬ 
tect himself, and so was sent tumbling to the 
ground, where he lay in a heap, stunned by the 
fall. One of the bandits had ordered every one to 
get out of the coach and line up along the road, 
and the gambler was in the act of doing so when 
the horses started and he was pitched out on his 
head and rolled along the ground, from which 
position he brought his gun into action. 

Two of the bandits who were near the horses’ 
heads attempted to stop them, but this only had 
the effect of crowding them over the edge of the 
bank, which tilted the coach to one side until the 
girl was thrown out of the open door, and rolled 
into the bushes. Having no concern but for her 
safety, Dangity leaped out and rolled down the 
bank after her. The horses kept on until the bank 
became so steep that soon horses and all rolled 
over and over and landed in a tangled mess at the 
bottom of the grade. The robbers were so occu¬ 
pied trying to get the frightened horses under 
control that they were unable to give much atten¬ 
tion to the passengers, beyond a random shot at 
any whom they caught a glimpse of as they went 
hurtling over the bank. 

Dangity drew his old pistol on the first sound of 
hostilities, and still held it in his hand, and at first 
thought of going back and getting into the fight, 
but more sober second thought convinced him 
that it would be wiser for him to try and find his 
friend and take care of her, as she might be in 
need of assistance. In a few minutes he came 
upon her huddled in a clump of bushes, shivering 
with fright, but, beyond a number of scratches 


107 


The Trail Grows Rougher 

on hands and face, she was uninjured and was tre¬ 
mendously glad to see Dangity near her. He 
grasped her trembling hand, and warned her that 
they must flee at once, for if she should fall into 
the hands of that gang it would certainly go hard 
with her; so together they hurried away over 
fallen timber and rough ground, through the wood 
that skirted the small stream, in an eifort to put 
as much distance between them and the scene 
of the tragedy as possible. 

The girl soon tired of the rough going, and, 
despite the fact that Dangity took her arm and 
helped her along as best he could, she soon sank 
exhausted at the foot of a tree and declared 
between gasps that she “could—go—no—far— 
ther.” 

“Come on, stick to it a while longer,” Dangity 
urged, but she refused to move. “Oh dear, I just 
can’t go another step—I’m—all—tuckered—out,” 
she managed to stammer between breaths. 

“Well, I think we’re safe enough now anyway; 
if any of those bums undertake to follow me 
they’d better be pretty careful,” he declared defi¬ 
antly, until she was compelled to look upon him 
admiringly, and to murmur to herself, “My, how 
manly and brave he is!” 

In a moment their eyes met and as they looked 
at each other they both burst out laughing like 
two silly kids, in spite of their fears. 

The girl held a small satchel, which she had 
saved, in her hand, and Dangity had his precious 
pistol, but aside from this neither of them at this 
moment possessed aught of worldly goods. “I 
managed to save this much anyway,” she 


108 Romances of the Rugged Road 

exclaimed, holding up the little satchel, “and I still 
have this,” he replied, showing her the gun. 

“Is that all you saved?” she asked. “Yes, that’s 
all, ’ceptin’ my life, and I guess I was mighty 
lucky to save that, seeing how those other poor 
fellows lost theirs,” he replied soberly. 

“But what in the world are we going to do 
now?” she murmured disconsolately. In reply 
Dangity arched his eyebrows and looked wise as 
he said, “We’ll have to do something, that’s sure, 
but what it will be I’ll be danged if I know.” 

The dangers of their situation began to dawn 
upon them with full force, now that the excite¬ 
ment of the thing was dying out, but it was no 
easy matter to decide as to what was the best 
thing to do under the circumstances, or what they 
really could do if they wanted to. 

“Oh, my goodness, what can we do, what can 
we do?” she cried, wringing her hands and looking 
up into Dangity’s hopeless face. 

“For the life of me I don’t know, but there’s 
one thing we must do, and that is, we must both 
be brave,” he reminded her with a 'touch of 
reproach in his voice. 

“If I didn’t have this pesky girl to look after, 
I’d soon get out of here,” he said to himself, and, 
as if she half interpreted his meaning, she 
exclaimed, “Oh, please don’t put yourself out for 
my sake, I’ve only got to die once, and I suppose I 
might as well make up my mind to do it now as 
any time.” 

“Who said anything about dying!” he exploded 
grandiosely. “Dying! Why, say, we’ll both live 
so long that neither of us will be able to remember 


The Trail Grows Rougher 109 

when this little trouble happened,” at which sally 
both of them laughed again. 

As they rested for a few moments it occurred 
to Dangity that he had better find out what the 
young lady’s name was, and so he began, “Let me 
see—ah—I—ah—don’t think I ever heard your 
name, did I? Miss ah-” 

“Fleming,” she broke in laughing, “Safrona 
Fleming, to say it all.” 

“My, I think that’s a very nice name,” he vol¬ 
unteered facetiously, until she was not certain as 
to whether he was in earnest or not. 

“Well, I don’t think it’s a nice name, at all; I 
think it’s just horrid. I can’t see why parents 
want to give such outlandish names to their chil¬ 
dren anyway,” she retorted hotly, her cheeks 
aflame. 

“Oh, I don’t know; I’ve heard far worse names 
than that,” he came back, clumsily trying in his 
awkward way to make her feel happy. 

“But then,” she went on coyly, looking at him, 
“I don’t think I ever heard what your full name is 
either.” 

“My name! I want to tell you it’s one to con¬ 
jure with; you’re going to hear my name spread 
all over the world some day. To be exact, my full 
name is Dangity Fay,” he replied proudly with a 
shake of his head. 

“Oh my, what a romantic name that is! My 
goodness! I don’t think I ever heard a name like 
that before,” she exclaimed excitedly, casting 
admiring eyes upon him. 

“Most likely you haven’t, but one name like that 
is enough in the world.” 

Presently he stooped down and took her by the 



110 Romances of the Rugged Road 

hand, saying, '‘Come on now, we must brace up 
and try and get out of here somehow. Let us try 
and find our way back to the road, and maybe we 
can find shelter somewhere for the night.” 

Together they started out to find the road, but 
the crooked, half-hidden roads of that country 
were hard to find. They tramped on and on, 
winding hither and yon, until, after a fruitless 
search, they were compelled to admit that they 
were lost, and it was now evident that they must 
spend the night in the woods, unless a miracle 
was worked in their behalf; but, sorry to say, 
there were no miracles stirring. 

Soon they came to a clump of evergreens in a 
little hollow near a stream, and as it was now 
getting dark Dangity urged that they stop here 
and try and make a camp for the night. He had 
read in the story-books of how people in the woods 
make beds of green boughs, and so he set to work 
while Safrona helped him and in a little while 
they had two, one for each. This done, they sat 
down to rest and talk over the situation, always 
of course, in subdued tones, for they feared lest 
they be overheard by some of the band who were 
still crawling about. 

“You know, I have always been of a romantic 
turn of mind; that is, I have always had a great 
desire to visit those out-of-the-way places where 
no woman has ever been before, and then travel 
and lecture about the strange things I have seen,” 
she rattled on, scarcely stopping for breath. 

“Well, I reckon you’re getting a pretty good 
start on the romantic stuff right now, and you’re 
young enough, too, to see a lot yet before you die,” 
he reminded her. 


The Trail Grows Rougher 111 

“Yes, that’s so, isn’t it? Dear me, just think 
of spending the night in the woods alone with a 
strange man. My! Talk about romance; but this 
is more than I bargained for when I set out from 
home,” she continued more seriously as she looked 
anxiously at Dangity. 

“It does look to me like we were pretty much 
alone here, doesn’t it?” he replied softly, peering 
about into the woods to see that no one was near, 
“but you’re just as safe here with me as you 
would be in your own home,” he assured her 
gallantly. 

“Oh, I knew by your looks that I could trust 
you,” she re-echoed brightly, with an air of confi¬ 
dence that was entirely unwarranted from such a 
brief acquaintance with this unknown stranger; 
but then women are the confident creatures any¬ 
how. 

They sat for some time, as the friendly old 
moon looked down upon them just as he has on 
millions of other mortals, and told each other of 
their ambitions and plans in life. They began to 
feel that they could understand each other, and in 
fact at times the idea that they might even do 
worse than arrange to go down the path of life 
together flitted through their minds. 

These thoughts, however, came only as a fleet¬ 
ing fancy to Dangity. It was likely that under 
the romantic circumstances under which he found 
himself he should be inclined to yield to youthful 
speculation as he mused thusly: 

“Here upon the mountainside, in the fastness 
of a great wilderness, miles from anywhere, what 
a romantic place to meet a partner for life, what 
a dream!” No doubt there was a temptation to 


112 Romances of the Rugged Road 

allow his imagination to run riot, and the fact 
that he was able to control his impulses speaks 
well for his powers of discipline. 

“And don’t you ever intend to marry, then?” 
Safrona asked him after he had told her of his 
plan to see the world. 

“No, not until I have seen all there is to see, 
and have had some fun first,” he exclaimed firmly. 

“Oh, you’ll change your mind as soon as the 
right girl comes along,” she cooed naively, as 
though she had previously had some experience in 
affairs of the heart herself. “No, I won’t; when 
I make up my mind to do a thing you bet I never 
change it for anything,” he reiterated stoutly. 
The girl in Slowtown had told him the same thing, 
and here was this one repeating the assertion. 
He would show them all, however, that they were 
mistaken and that he was one who ever subjected 
the emotions to the will, and made the law of 
reason govern in all the activities of life. A fine 
set of rules, I am sure, but oh how few are always 
able to follow them! It was Paul who said, “All 
things are lawful for me, but all things are not 
expedient.” 

Having made up his mind not to allow any love 
affairs to interfere with his plans to see the world, 
he resolutely determined to stick to them, but 
here was a temptation entirely unlooked for, and 
one may be excused, perhaps, when confronted 
with extenuating circumstances over which he had 
no control. It was true that he could not alter the 
circumstances, but he could, and did, determine 
to control himself. 

“You know some fellows just get old enough to 
get out and see things and then they go and spoil 


113 


The Trail Grows Rougher 

all the fun by getting married, but no girl is ever 
going to catch me until I get good and ready to be 
caught—no siree, not if I know my own mind they 
won’t,” he boasted with an air of great confidence. 

“Oh, you’ll change your mind, like all the rest 
of your kind, some day, and it will be done so 
quick you’ll never know how it happened,” Safrona 
warned him sagely. 

Like many another deluded mortal, he somehow 
had the notion that every female who smiled at 
him was trying to catch him. Funny, isn’t it, how 
many men there are who seem to have the same 
idea! 

As the night came on, the air grew chill and 
damp, and the wind moaned and sighed through 
the trees. It was so cold that Safrona could not 
sleep, so Dangity gathered a large pile of leaves 
and boughs and spread them over her, and under 
this covering tired nature asserted itself and she 
was soon in the land of dreams. He stood for a 
while looking upon her fair face in the moonlight 
and then crawled under his own pile of boughs and 
slept like a baby. 

They were both just as hungry tonight as they 
were the night before, but there was no steaming 
supper waiting for them, and no cozy bed. 

Dangity was worried about Safrona. “I can 
stand the gaff myself, no matter how tough it 
gets, but I don’t know what sort of stuff she’s 
made of, nor how long she can stand the rough 
going.” He could easily have kept on tramping 
for hours, but with her it was going to be differ¬ 
ent. He wondered what was going on at home as 
he looked at the distant moon, and for the moment 
he was sorry he had made that foolish resolve 
not to write. 


114 Romances of the Rugged Road 


CHAPTER VI 
Unexpected Company 

It was broad daylight when Dangity awoke, sur¬ 
prised to see his company already up and sitting 
on a nearby log engaged in that fascinating female 
occupation of powdering her nose. 

After rubbing his eyes and trying to remember 
where he was, his senses slowly returned and he 
called out, “Did you ever read the story of the 
Babes in the Woods ?” 

Safrona gave a start, then a lingering peep into 
the small hand-mirror which she had managed to 
keep close to her, after which she replied, “Well, 
I should say I have!” 

“Aren’t we just like them?” he laughingly 
queried. 

“Yes, I suppose we are, but my goodness I hope 
we find our way out of here, or else some one 
rescues us before we starve to death as they did,” 
she chattered with a shudder, whether from the 
cold or from pure fright he did not know. 

Both of them were chilled to the bone, despite 
the covering of leaves, and since they were not 
hindered by having to await a call to breakfast, 
they were able to resume their tramping at once, 
and were soon tingling with warmth from the 
exercise. 

“I think we better keep to the high ground as 
much as possible; we will be able to see out better 


Unexpected Company 115 

if we do,” Dangity urged, although it was harder 
to go up than it was to go down—it usually is— 
they kept on climbing. 

They were rewarded for their toil after the 
space of two or three hours, by reaching a cleared 
space on the top of a hill where they could get a 
view of the surrounding country for miles. It 
was a beautiful sight from the standpoint of 
scenery, but a very discouraging one as far as 
offering any signs of help, for there were no evi¬ 
dences of life that either of them could see. 

“Oh my, what a wild romantic place this is!” 
Safrona exclaimed with delight as her eyes wan¬ 
dered away over the great hills lying in every 
direction, with little wooded valleys stretching 
between. “Isn’t it simply glorious!” she cried. 

Dangity was too deeply absorbed in thought, 
until a tug at his arm brought him back to earth 
again, to pay much attention to her romantic rav¬ 
ings, for he was now thoroughly alarmed when he 
looked on the limitless expanse of wild, rough 
country that stretched out in every direction, 
promising days of weary wanderings unless they 
should strike onto a road, or a trail that led out 
of it. 

“Oh yes, it isn’t bad for scenery, but I’d rather 
see something to eat right now than all the 
scenery in the world,” he replied somewhat pet¬ 
tishly, showing the usual manly traits. Safrona 
was scanning the hills intently and in a moment 
she cried out excitedly as she clutched Dangity’s 
arm, “Oh Mr. Fay! what is that?” pointing to 
what looked like a thin wreath of smoke curling 
up out of the trees away down the mountainside. 

“Why, that’s smoke, as sure as you’re a foot 


116 Romances of the Rugged Road 

high!” he fairly yelled with joy. Yes, there it 
was, rising and curling in the sunlight. This tiny 
evidence of life was a great comfort to them and 
they both breathed a quick sigh of relief when 
they saw it. They lost no time in rushing down, 
down, through the underbrush towards the place 
where it seemed to spring from. 

Dangity helped Safrona over the rough places 
and she was quite willing now to let him do so. 
Her independence was leaving her in large 
measure, at least as far as Dangity was concerned. 

As they pushed through the brush they finally 
came upon a tiny cabin that stood on one side of a 
little cleared space on the side of a hill. It was a 
rough, squat little shack, built back into the 
ground, with no sign of life about it, save for the 
little column of smoke which rose feebly above a 
short piece of stovepipe that stuck out through 
the roof. There was surely something spooky- 
looking about it, and Dangity hesitated about 
approaching the door. “What a sinister appear¬ 
ance that place has, but it looks sort of romantic 
too, though,” Safrona whispered as she clung to 
Dangity. 

“Yes, I wonder who can be living in a place like 
that,” he replied as he looked questioningly at his 
companion, as though he expected her to tell him. 
They stood for some time debating what they 
should do. Their hunger getting the better of 
them, they finally decided to approach the cabin. 
Safrona kept back out of sight a little, while 
Dangity went up and rapped on the door. 

From within there came a sound as of shuf¬ 
fling feet and a low murmured, “Who’s that?” 


Unexpected Company 117 

followed by a gruffer voice which called tout, 
“Who's there?" 

Dangity replied, “It's me," just like any other 
child would, whereupon, in a moment the door was 
slowly opened a tiny bit, and a rough-looking 
heavily bearded face, which was topped by a mat 
of black hair, under which two glistening eyes 
peered out, was thrust into the opening, and a 
heavy voice inquired, “What do you want here?" 

Dangity was somewhat flustered by the appear¬ 
ance of the face in the doorway, and stood for a 
few moments trying to regain his composure. 
Finally he recovered his nerve sufficiently to tell 
him that he was lost, and was to trying to find 
his way to Alturas. The man saw at once that 
he was a tenderfoot, and, as such, perfectly harm¬ 
less, so he opened the door and stepped out. He 
was a bruiser of a man, who was well armed with 
pistols and in addition carried a rifle in his hand, 
all the time keeping a sharp eye on Dangity—that 
is, until he noticed Safrona standing back of him, 
when he immediately shifted his gaze to her— 
and proceeded to look her up and down keenly 
with a questioning expression upon his face, which 
changed to an attempted grin as he turned to 
Dangity and said, “Who's the lady, your wife?" 

This was too much of a shock for Dangity and 
he fumbled and stammered with an answer, afraid 
to say she wasn’t, and of course not in a position 
to declare that she was. “Why—ah—well, no, 
she's ah—well, she a young lady that is on the 
way to Alturas to meet her brother," he managed 
to explain. “’Sthat so," the man grunted, looking 
from one to the other. “How come you're here 


118 Romances of the Rugged Road 

alone at this time o’ day then if you’re not mar¬ 
ried?” 

“Well, you see we were both on a coach that was 
held up and robbed last night.” 

“Hm, I see; lost too, eh? You’ll find this is a 
bad country for a woman ta git lost in, let me tell 
ya! Yes, sir, a bad country to be lost in,” he 
repeated to himself, as he called out to some one 
in the cabin and two other men came out. They 
were not as big as the first one, but they made up 
for lack of size by their repulsiveness in looks. 
One of them carried one arm in a sling, and both 
were tough-looking customers and men in whom 
the primitive instincts plainly predominated. As 
they came out of the door, the first man nodded 
towards Dangity and Safrona saying, “Here’s a 
fella and a gal who claims they was on a coach 
what got held up and robbed last night; they hev 
lost their way and want to get to Alturas; what 
do you fellers think about that?” he finished, and 
looked from one to the other for an answer. They 
simply looked at each other and grinned and one 
of them hitched at his trousers as he looked at 
Safrona, and, nodding his head towards her, 
remarked, “I don’t see what she wants ta go any 
further fer, Pete here is lookin’ fer a wife; I guess 
she’d do, won’t she Pete?” 

A subdued chuckle from Pete followed this 
bright sally, while Safrona, now thoroughly 
frightened, looked appealingly to Dangity, who 
was blushing deeply, whether from anger or 
embarrassment she could not tell. 

She did not like the looks of these men—the 
furtive glances they cast at her—the attempt to 
joke at her expense, and, lastly, the allusion to 


Unexpected Company 119 

her as “a good wife,” was a shock to her finer 
sensibilities. 

Perhaps it was only her woman’s intuition that 
sensed a possible source of danger in these rough 
men who appeared but little better than beasts, 
and who at any time might become even worse. 
What if they should kill or overpower Dangity, 
she thought; what would become of her? Here 
in this lonely place she might be kept for months, 
and in the meantime she would be absolutely at 
their mercy. She was convinced that at the best 
they meant no good towards her. What a fool 
she had been to leave home. Alone with Dangity 
she felt perfectly safe, but with these men she 
felt nothing but dread. 

There was one consolation that came to Safrona 
in her hour of trial, one ray of hope that shone 
above the darkness, and that was her trust in 
an overshadowing Providence, for she had been 
taught to pray and to rely upon God in her hour 
of need, and while standing there alone she had 
sent up a silent prayer for safety and somehow she 
felt that it would be answered. 

The man who had been called Pete now came 
closer to her and with a tantalizing grin upon his 
wicked face said, “Ya ain’t afeered o’ me are ya, 
little one?” at the same time reaching his hand 
out to touch her. 

She drew back behind Dangity who raised his 
hand to Pete. “Don’t you dare to lay a hand on 
that young lady; you just mind your own business 
and leave her alone, or I’ll break your nose for 
you.” 

This angered the fellow so that he squared off 
to hit Dangity, but before either of them came 


120 Romances of the Rugged Road 

to blows the big fellow jumped in between them 
and pushed them apart, saying as he did so, 
“Here, here, none o' that kind of stuff now. You 
’nd Sam go along now and finish the breakfast, 
I’ll look after this young lady here m’self,” he 
growled gruffly to his scowling partners. 

“You c’n eh?” growled Pete. “Who made you 
boss around here, you big bully you.” 

“Well, I won’t stand to see no innocent lady 
insulted, not if I know it,” he reiterated., with 
what Safrona thought she detected as a trace of 
sympathy in his voice and an expression on his 
face that was not at all in keeping with his rough 
demeanor. He called after the others as they 
were about to enter the cabin, “Put on enough 
extra fer two more, now.” 

After they had gone he loosened up long enough 
to mutter, “Them boys never had any bringing up 
I reckon, or else they’ve been away from civiliza¬ 
tion so long they’ve plumb forgot all they knew. 
I don’t know which it is,” he added, and it was 
apparent from his language that he had been in 
better company. 

“Have you known these men long?” Safrona 
asked; at which he fidgeted about for a moment 
and replied, “Well, yes, kinda.” 

Dangity noticed that he was very restless, and 
kept scanning the hills constantly as if he might 
be looking for someone. He held his rifle in the 
hollow of his left arm, and between glances at the 
hills he kept his eyes as much as possible on the 
cabin, as though he might be expecting trouble 
from that source also. 

In a little while the man called Sam (the one 
with his arm in a sling) came to the door and 


Unexpected Company 121 

hollered, “Come on, Bill, she’s all ready now!” at 
which Bill invited Safrona and Dangity into the 
cabin to have breakfast with them. 

Safrona absolutely refused to go. “No, no; I’ll 
never go into a place like that with those terrible- 
looking men,” she firmly objected. Bill and 
Dangity both coaxed her, while Bill pleaded, 
“Come on, don’t be afeered of them fellas, they 
ain’t agoin’ to hurt you so long as I’m around here, 
you c’n just bet your sweet life on that,” he 
assured her gruffly, and Dangity backed it up 
with his own promise to take care of her. 

She demurred for a time, but hunger is a great 
persuader, and being nearly famished it was not 
hard for her to screw her courage up to the point 
where she was willing to take a chance and enter 
the cabin. Here they found no furniture to speak 
of; a few boards pinned to the wall serving as a 
table, and an empty box or two being pressed into 
service as seats. A little camp stove and a rough¬ 
looking bunk in the corner completed the accom¬ 
modations. 

A breakfast of griddle cakes, bacon and black 
coffee was all they had to offer, but as Dangity 
afterwards remarked, “under the circumstances, 
it was a feast.” 

The bacon and cakes were both tasty enough to 
tickle the palate of the strictest epicurean. 

“’Tain’t much of a meal fer city folks,” big Bill 
apologized, “but ther’s one thing I c’n say fer Sam 
there and that is he can sure make good cakes.” 

At which Pete grinned, winced about a little, but 
said nothing. Safrona shuddered every time she 
saw that grin, for it was the grin of a fiend who 


122 Romances of the Rugged Road 

might keep grinning all the while he slowly 
squeezed your life out by inches. 

“These cakes make me homesick,” Dangity put 
in. “I suppose it’s a long time since you fellows 
have seen your homes/’ he continued for want of 
something better to say, as he looked around from 
one to the other of the gang. “Home!” they all 
three echoed in unison. 

“Home, did you say?” grinned Sam. “Say, boy, 
it’s so long since we heard that word we’d plumb 
forgot there was sich a place.” 

“Well as long as you can get cakes like these, 
you don’t need to go home,” he assured them. 

“Yes, they’re mighty good when you’re hungry; 
anythin’ is then. I’ve proved the truth of that 
statement where it says, ‘The full soul loatheth 
the honeycomb, but to the hungry soul every 
bitter thing is sweet’; yes, sir, I’ve proved that 
more’n once, I have,” big Bill remarked gravely as 
he transferred another stack of steaming cakes 
to his own plate. 

Safrona was surprised to hear this well known 
proverb repeated by such a rough-looking charac¬ 
ter, and she wondered where in the world he had 
learned that, and then she also wondered how 
much of it might apply to himself, and how 
hungry might be the soul which was buried under 
such a rough exterior. As between her and the 
other two men there was no bond of sympathy, 
but she did feel kindly towards this big, rough¬ 
looking man who seemed to have seen better days. 

Pete eyed her sheepishly, turning his gaze from 
her every time he caught Bill’s watchful eye upon 
him, while she evaded his glances by keeping her 
eyes turned towards the door. There was little 


Unexpected Company 123 

in the way of conversation, for both Pete and 
Sam were sullen and morose, while Bill seemed to 
have some heavy burden upon his mind, as he 
glanced furtively towards the door, and occasion¬ 
ally emitted a heavy sigh. 

Dangity was wondering all the while what their 
business was; while he noted that they all wore 
boots and spurs, but so far had not seen any 
horses about the place. His curiosity getting the 
better of him he blurted out, “What line are you 
fellows in?” This brought out another grin from 
the partners and caused Bill to wince uneasily as 
he replied, 

“ ’Tain’t polite to ask a man his business in this 
country, stranger,” at which Dangity blushed in 
confusion, and the other hyenas grinned aloud, 
while Bill adroitly turned the conversation into 
another channel, thus evading the answer to 
Dangity’s unpleasant question. 

The situation grew quite embarrassing, there 
being no line of conversation which could be car¬ 
ried on freely, every attempt at such only ending 
in a blind alley, so to speak. 

There soon developed a noticeable tenseness in 
the atmosphere, which was apparent to all, so 
Dangity gave up trying to talk and finished his 
breakfast instead. 

That there was something wrong regarding the 
actions of these men, both of them surmised, but 
what it was they were unable to guess. Dangity 
had a suspicion that they might know something 
about the robbery, and he felt not a little alarm 
when he thought of what might become of both 
him and Safrona, and especially was he concerned 
about Safrona. 


124 Romances of the Rugged Road 

The only hopeful angle to the situation, as he 
looked it over, was that the man called Bill seemed 
intent that no harm should come to them, but 
whether he would be able to overcome the evil 
ambitions of the other two remained to be seen. 
Each of the three men was well armed. They 
had rifles as well as pistols, and it was also evident 
that none of them had any too much confidence 
in his fellows, for they not only carried their pis¬ 
tols in their belts, but they also kept the rifles 
always within reach. 

It was another evidence of the primitive 
instincts of the beast, the law of self-preservation 
—the law of might. And, after all, the law of 
might really prevails. The might of physical 
prowess—the might of mental prowess—the 
might of superior intelligence, the might of pos¬ 
session—all these in fact seem to be in contradic¬ 
tion to the law of right as taught in the thirteenth 
chapter of first Corinthians. 

Breakfast over, our friends lost no time in get¬ 
ting outside, with Bill at their heels. “If you 
folks will wait a bit, I'll see about girtin' ya out 
of here,” he volunteered, and upon their promise 
to flo so he re-entered the cabin. He remained 
there for considerable time, and every once in a 
while they could hear the voices of the men rise 
to a high pitch, and then die away again, as they 
seemed to remember that they might be over¬ 
heard. 

Neither of them could catch what was being 
said, but from occasional words it sounded as if 
there was a dispute as to whether they should be 
allowed to go, or be held as prisoners. It was 


Unexpected Company 125 

apparent that the partners were having a quarrel, 
as bitter oaths frequently rent the air, from which 
it was apparent that both Sam and Pete were 
arrayed against Bill. When they got too loud, his 
defiant tones always calmed them down. After 
they had argued for a while they all came out, 
and the two smaller men hurried off up a little 
ravine that lay just beyond the cabin. In a few 
minutes they reappeared each riding a good-look¬ 
ing horse and leading another, all of which were 
well saddled and bridled. Dangity was surprised 
to see the horses and there was no longer any 
doubt in his mind that these men knew some¬ 
thing about the coach robbery. 

As they drew rein opposite the little group in 
front of the cabin, Bill was telling Dangity and 
Safrona of how they had planned to take them out 
to the road and let them go, provided they would 
swear, upon their word of honor, not to say any¬ 
thing about finding their cabin in the woods. He 
had just turned to point out the direction of the 
trail, and had his back rather towards his partners 
when they suddenly covered the three with their 
guns and ordered them to “stick their hands up 
and to do it dod-gasted quick, too.” 

Bill, stunned by the sudden turn of events, and 
plainly caught napping, was very reluctant to sur¬ 
render, and almost mechanically his hand sought 
his shoulder as he clutched his rifle, but an order 
from Sam to drop the rifle and a shot from Pete 
which sang past his head, warned him that his 
partners were in earnest, and meant business. It 
looked as though his time had come, but he hissed 
back as he stood with uplifted hands, “What d’you 
skunks think you're goin’ to get by this move, I’d 


126 Romances of the Rugged Road 

like to know?” as a dark scowl played upon his 
face. 

“Never mind, Bill Granger, we’ve got you where 
we want ya now, ’nd you c’n bet it’s curtains fer 
yours,” Pete snarled as a sinister sneer lighted up 
his dark countenance. “You ben a bossin’ us 
fellers around like dogs too tarnation long, ’nd 
now by thunder it’s our turn to crow.” 

“I’ll get even with you dirty crooks yet, see if I 
don’t,” Bill warned as he fretted and chafed under 
the galling chagrin he felt at being taken off his 
guard. 

“You jist keep them big paws of your’n up there 
till Pete gits them shootin’ irons, and keep that 
mouth of your’n shut too. We don’t want any 
more of them sermons of your’n just now, you 
big brute you. Better turn round and look ’tother 
way too while he’s adoin’ it; ya can’t trust no sich 
cattle es you, these days,” Sam ordered roughly as 
Bill turned slowly around, all the while vowing 
vengeance on his partners for their treachery, 
while Pete went over to relieve him of his tried 
and trusty companions. 

Dangity was racking his brain to think of some 
way to save Bill, but an oath to keep his hands 
up, prevented him from acting just then. 

Safrona was also trying to think of something 
she could do to help him, for she too realized that, 
with Bill out of the way, only Dangity stood 
between her and ruin, and he was just then in the 
power of the wicked devils too. 

« 

Leave it to a woman to think of a way to save a 
man if she wants to, and Safrona was no excep¬ 
tion. A bright idea seized her. The horses which 
Sam was holding were standing directly in front 


Unexpected Company 127 

of her, and grabbing her skirts in her hands she 
sprang at the horses shaking them in their faces, 
and in an instant they were rearing and plunging 
in such a way that Sam was almost thrown out of 
the saddle, for, as you will remember, he had one 
arm in a sling. 

This took Sam's eyes off of Bill, and Safrona's 
scream attracted the attention of Pete for a 
moment, but that moment was long enough for 
Bill's powerful arm to fall alongside of Pete's head 
with a resounding whack that sent him sprawling 
to the ground when he had only secured one gun 
from Bill's holster. 

Dangity had Pete covered in the next moment, 
and this left Bill and Sam to shoot it out, Sam 
having gotten his own horse under control. The 
fight did not last long, as a shot in a vital part of 
Bill’s anatomy sent him crumpling in a heap to 
the ground. Some of Bill's shots had also taken 
effect, and Sam began to sag down into the saddle, 
and presently leaning over grasped the horn of it 
in an effort to stay himself. He was fast losing 
consciousness by bleeding, and the horse, finding 
something strange about the burden upon its back, 
became restless and plunged off down the hill with 
the stiffening form of its rider fast in the saddle, 
to be seen no more. 

Bill was not yet dead, but it was evident from 
his labored breathing, that he was very near 
the “end of the trail,” although he seemed pos¬ 
sessed of an almost superhuman strength, for he 
rallied remarkably and raised himself on his elbow, 
and, seeing Pete lying near him, he grabbed his 
revolver and hit him a stunning blow over the 
head, which put Pete out of action at least for the 


128 Romances of the Rugged Road 

time being. The exertion was his dying kick, so 
to speak, for he sank back into unconsciousness. 

Dangity and Safrona had both been frightened 
spectators of a tragic drama which had moved 
much too fast for them to catch the drift of it. 
That it had been a violent one was evidenced by 
the two men who lay before them both apparently 
beyond the place where they would ever do any 
serious damage to any one again. 

They now set to work to try and revive Bill, as 
they were anxious to unravel the mystery of the 
cabin and also render him any help which they 
could. Together they rolled him over on his back, 
and while Dangity unloosened his shirt Safrona 
brought some water from the cabin, which they 
poured over his face. This revived him until he 
was able to open his eyes and look appealingly 
from one to the other. He made an effort to speak, 
but it was impossible for him to raise his voice 
above a whisper, so all they could catch was some¬ 
thing about, “the—corner—o’—the—cabin,” when 
his eyes closed again, but presently opened and he 
whispered the name “Agnes—Agnes,” and lapsed 
into unconsciousness again. In a few minutes he 
had cashed in at the judgment. 

Both Safrona and Dangity felt that with the 
passing of Bill they had lost a friend, but they 
were glad that he had been able to care of both 
of the other fellows before going. What could 
they have done with them alone ? It is more than 
likely they would have seen rough times of it. 

So intent were they upon reviving Bill they paid 
little, if any, attention to Pete, who was lying 
near, and to all appearances still unconscious. He 
had been slowly recovering his senses, however, 



Unexpected Company 129 

and had come to sufficiently to take in the situa¬ 
tion, and was now only waiting until his strength 
had returned and he saw a good chance to act. 

This came to him presently, when suddenly his 
hoarse voice startled them to a realization of their 
carelessness when they heard his orders grating 
on their ears to “come on, now Kids, git away from 
that bum there ’nd stick yer hands up, ’nd move 
lively about it too!” There was a ringing note of 
triumph in his voice; and when they, overcome 
with consternation at the turn events had taken, 
were slow in responding to his commands, he 
hissed at them again, 

“Oh, I ain’t dead yit, and don’t you ever think 
so either. My turn’s a cornin’ ’nd don’t you lose 
no time in gittin’ them hands up or I’ll plump a 
sinker into ya.” 

As he had a gun in his hand and it was pointing 
directly at them there was no alternative but to 
obey, although be it said to Dangity’s credit that 
he did make an attempt to draw, himself, but a 
shot from Pete warned him that any resistance 
would be dangerous. More than this he thought 
of the danger to Safrona, and it mortified him to 
be caught in this predicament. “I should have 
put a shot or two into that brute when I had him 
in my grasp.” He upbraided himself bitterly for 
his tender-hearted oversight. 

As he knelt by the side of Bill with his hands in 
the air, Pete ordered him to stand up and turn 
round and put his hands behind him. “No monkey 
business either, or I’ll bore you full o’ holes,” he 
warned as Dangity turned slowly around; where¬ 
upon Pete grabbed his hands and tied them 
securely. 


130 Romances of the Rugged Road 

“Well, Kid, here’s where you ’nd me parts com¬ 
pany,” he chuckled. “I c’n take care o’ this lady 
friend uf your’n m’self. Ladies is mighty scarce 
in these parts ’nd I reckon I c’n use her.” 

“You’re not mean enough to harm a poor, 
defenseless girl, are you?” Dangity shot back at 
him swiftly. 

“Defenseless! Ho, ho! Say, that gal ain’t goin’ 
to be defenseless no more. Didn’t I tell ya I was 
goin’ ta look after her m’self from now on,” he 
gushed tantalizingly in Dangity’s ear, until he 
felt his warm breath like a blast from the infernal 
regions. 

“I’d sooner see the devil take care of her than 
you,” Dangity burst out, at which Pete quickly 
snarled back, “Say, Bo, none o’ your lip now, or 
I’ll bust your coconut right where ya stand!” 

“I don’t care what you do to me, that don’t 
matter; but if you touch that girl, some one else 
will get you if I don’t, and you’ll get yours all 
right!” 

While Pete was engaged with Dangity, Safrona 
made a dash for liberty, but Pete was too quick 
for her, and grabbing her arm forced her to 
return. 

“Don’t try nuthin’ smart now, lady,” he cau¬ 
tioned her. “You’ll never git away from me now 
for ther’ ain’t nary a man in this hull country 
but this beau o’ your’n and he’ll soon be where he 
won’t count,” he vociferated as a devilish grin 
played about his face. 

He brought her back beside Dangity and then 
marched both of them over to a clump of trees 
nearby, where he bound him fast, after which he 
gagged and blindfolded him. “This is jist in case 


Unexpected Company 131 

you do break away you won't hurt nobody if ya do, 
but I reckon you'll be good ’nd hungry afore any 
one happens along here to let ya go," he blustered 
as he tied him up, and it began to dawn upon 
Dangity that he meant to leave him here to starve 
to death, the most horrible punishment one could 
think of. 

Safrona was determined to get away from his 
clutches, if possible, and when he took his eyes off 
of her for a moment she made a fresh break for 
the cabin, and succeeded in reaching it, grabbing 
up Bill’s rifle on the way, and quickly barred her¬ 
self in. Pete was hard after her, vowing the direst 
of vengeance upon her for her stubbornness. 
“She’s the orneriest little witch I ever see,’ he 
whined petulantly, as he chased her to the door. 

He first tried coaxing, making many fine prom¬ 
ises of protection if she would only let him in, but 
she was obdurate, refusing even to answer his call. 
This enraged him so that he threw himself against 
the door, but Bill had seen to it that the fastenings 
were of the best, and it refused to yield. Finding 
words and pushing of no avail, he grabbed a rifle 
and using this for a club he proceeded to batter it 
in. 

Safrona was completely unnerved by the strain 
of the past few hours, and she felt at times as 
though she would faint, but, realizing her dan¬ 
ger, she rallied all of her energies, for the sight 
of Pete standing in the open doorway warned her 
that her life as well as her honor was at stake. 

With a mockish pretense at friendship he 
smiled and cooed softly, “Well, honey, here we be 
at last; but you don’t seem to want me fer a pal 
the rest uf yer life, eh ?” 


132 Romances of the Rugged Road 

The sight of him gave her the horrors, and 
while she had never used a gun in her life, a sud¬ 
den thought seized her and quickly she brought 
Bill’s rifle to her shoulder and fired, but the bullet 
went wide of its mark, and in the next instant 
Pete sprang at her and wrenched it out of her 
hands, and stood glowering at her, his swollen 
and scarred face reminding her of a beast that 
has at last cornered its prey. 

But Safrona was brave. True, she was only a 
woman, and as such was no match for this brute 
who confronted her, but she realized that her only 
chance of escape lay in resisting him, and her 
courage rose for the occasion. 

Pete drew closer to her with hands outstretched 
as if to embrace her, as he prattled, “Now, honey, 
don’t be so touchy. You ’nd me’s the only ones 
es left around these diggin’s; no one’ll ever see 
us here now, honey!” 

She drew back from him as one would from a 
reptile, which only caused him to grin and repeat, 
“Ya needn’t depend on that beau uf your’n to 
help ya; he won’t bother you no more. Come on, 
honey, you ’nd me c’n hev a swell time now!” 

He clutched as though he would catch her, and 
her eyes fairly snapped as she sprang at him like 
a tigress fighting like one suddenly gone mad. 

For what seemed to her like ages they fought 
and struggled back and forth across the little 
cabin. He clutched and tore at her clothing until 
it hung from her in rags, her hair was disheveled 
and hanging about her face until she looked like a 
witch, but she clawed and scratched at his eyes 
and face, fighting him off as best she could. She 
screamed once or twice at the top of her voice 


Unexpected Company 133 

when he caught her. Her cries reached Dangity 
out where he was tied. He wrenched and strained 
frantically at the fastenings in an effort to break 
loose and rush to her rescue. Pete had rushed 
away to catch Safrona before he had quite finished 
his job, and Dangity felt the hitches loosening, but 
the question was whether he could get clear in 
time to save her. 

Pete was growing desperate, and he swore he 
would shoot her if she refused to yield to his ad¬ 
vances, but she concluded she would rather die 
than make terms that would satisfy him. 


134 Romances of the Rugged Road 


CHAPTER VII 
The Cabin Tells a Story 

As Safrona moved about the cabin, panting for 
breath, her eye fell upon Bill’s rifle, which Pete 
had thrown in a corner, and she made for that, 
but Pete succeeded in getting hold of her and was 
pushing her onto the rude bunk when she man¬ 
aged to swing the butt of the rifle onto his head 
with all her might, when she felt his hold loosen, 
and the next moment he sank in a heap to the 
floor. 

The strain, however, had been too much for her 
and the sight of the quivering form at her feet, 
coupled with the relaxation which followed her 
efforts, caused her to fall in a faint across the 
bunk, where she lay motionless. It was now only 
a question as to which of them should recover 
first. Up to this point it might fairly be said to 
have been a drawn battle, with the chances in 
favor of the woman recovering the slowest, as 
she was more exhausted than the man. 

However, the unlooked-for came to pass. As I 
said, in his haste, Pete had not taken the pre¬ 
caution to make Dangity as secure as he should 
have done, and, being of a slim and supple build, 
he managed to squirm and wriggle until he got 
his feet free. This allowed him to work his way 
around the tree until he got the lashings loose 
enough to work his arms clear, and later to work 


135 


The Cabin Tells a Story 

them down to his feet, but these being the big¬ 
gest part of him he was held up here for a time, 
but after patient work he was able to get clear 
of the tree. By rubbing his head against a tree 
he was able to uncover one eye, and as soon as 
this was done he made his way to the cabin, where 
the sight that met him caused him to gasp and 
shudder. Pete was still lying on the floor, while 
Safrona was stretched across the bunk, and the 
cabin bore every evidence of a terrible struggle. 
He shook the girl with his knee, but was alarmed 
to find that she was dead to the world. 

What in the world could he do? What if Pete 
should return to conciousness? The fact that he 
had done so before indicated that he had the cat’s 
proverbial nine lives. Even while he thought of 
this Pete began to stir as though he were coming 
out of his stupor. The only thing Dangity could 
think of was to sit on him and hold him down, 
an action which caused Pete to open his eyes 
wide, whereupon catching sight of Dangity, think¬ 
ing it must be his ghost come to torment him, he 
gave a cry of fright and closed his eyes again. 

The sound of his voice aroused Safrona from 
her stupor, and with a cry of fright she slowly 
staggered to her feet and looked wildly about the 
cabin. The sight of Dangity caused her to re¬ 
joice, and you may be sure she lost no time in 
releasing him, much against the protest of Pete, 
whose mind had now cleared sufficiently for him 
to know what was going on. 

“You young hound, you, how’d you git in here?” 
he groaned bitterly as he looked at Dangity. ‘Til 
show you how I got in here, you dirty scoundrel 
you; for two pins I’d kill you right where you 


136 Romances of the Rugged Road 

lay,” Dangity growled, as Safrona swung the rifle 
menacingly above Pete’s head. Together they 
bound and dragged him outside, where they let 
him lie for the time being. 

As soon as Safrona had arranged her clothes 
she threw her arms around Dangity’s neck and 
kissed him, an exhibition which he did not object 
to in the slightest. 

“My, if it hadn’t been for you, that brute would 
have killed me sure when he came to and found 
me unconscious,” she cried excitedly as he held 
her in his arms to try to quiet her shaking nerves. 

“I’m glad I happened around just in time then, 
as the groom said at the wedding,” he chaffed 
good-naturedly, now that all danger of attack was 
over, “but I sure thought I’d never see my mother 
again, when that skunk left me tied to that tree, 
’nd oh boy, didn’t those flies have a feast, though,” 
he added with a shiver. He complimented Safrona 
on her bravery, and she took it very modestly, 
especially when he told her she was brave enough 
to be a man, when she recited to him the story 
of her terrible struggle with Pete, until Dangity 
was for killing him at once, but Safrona begged 
him not to, saying that there had been enough 
of that for one day. He had never wanted to take 
a human life before, and he was surprised at the 
burning passion which suddenly seemed about to 
overpower him, the passion to kill. As it was, he 
could not resist the impulse to upbraid Pete for 
his cowardice in attacking a woman, and to his 
surprise Pete acknowledged his crime and begged 
for mercy. 

“I ben a bad man ’nd I deserve all I got ’nd 
more too. I’ve had my way a long time ’nd more’n 


137 


The Cabin Tells a Story 

one man I’ve sent across the Divide in a hurry, 
I hev,” he recited penitently as he blinked his 
blackened eyes painfully, for Safrona’s fingers had 
almost torn one of them from its socket. 

She shrank from him as she saw him endeavor 
to struggle to his feet, and she wondered how 
she could ever get up courage enough to strike 
him as she did. 

Dangity was anxious to investigate the cabin 
and see if they could find out what Bill was trying 
to tell them. They searched around until they 
came on a pile of old blankets in one corner, be¬ 
neath which they found that the earth had been 
freshly turned, which upon digging into they came 
upon an old sack. 

When this was dragged out and opened it was 
found to contain a bundle of old papers, quite a 
roll of currency, an old diary and some letters 
addressed to Charles W. Sweet. The letters were 
from his wife in the east, and in one of them was 
the picture of a little girl about seven years of 
age. She was a bright-looking youngster, dressed 
in white from head to toe, and also held a bunch 
of white lilies in her fat little hand. 

Scrawled on the back of the picture in the hand¬ 
writing of a child were the simple words, “With 
love to Daddy.” The letters showed that the 
writer had been looking long and anxiously for 
answers that never seemed to come. They were 
evidently the property of the man known as Bill, 
and as they recalled his attempt to treat them 
courteously, they understood that it was because 
he had been used to better surroundings. 

“Another man gone wrong, gone to the port of 
missing men, too, I guess,” Dangity exclaimed as 


138 Romances of the Rugged Road 

they looked at the letters. “Yes, and think how 
much the ones back home will miss him; how dis¬ 
appointed they will be when they never hear from 
him,” Safrona added as she brushed a tear from 
her cheek as she gazed on the picture of the child. 

In the old diary they dug up something of the 
story of Charles W. Sweet, alias Bill Granger, 
deceased. 

The truth of the matter was, he began life 
under far different circumstances from those 
under which he ended it. It was on a bright May 
morning that he came as a bouncing baby boy to 
bless the parsonage of a little church in Central 
New York. He was a general favorite as he grew 
up, and the pride of his happy parents. His 
father was inclined to be stern and exacting, 
after the manner of those days, and the mischie¬ 
vous rascal soon came into conflict with his rigid 
ways. He was forced to go to church and Sunday 
school, whether he wanted to or not, when they 
were in session, and when they weren’t there was 
very little in the way of recreation to take their 
place. 

So it was that Sunday grew to be anything but 
a pleasant anticipation. In fact, Charlie was gen¬ 
erally glad when the somber day was over. 

He attended the common school, where he 
stood well in his classes. This in spite of the fact 
that his father moved about from place to place, 
as the Presiding Elder and the conference might 
direct, which necessitated Charlie’s changing 
school quite frequently. 

As he grew older, the clashes between him and 
his father became more frequent, and more vio¬ 
lent. Often his mother was compelled to inter- 


139 


The Cabin Tells a Story 

vene in the interests of harmony, to prevent an 
open break between them which would send 
Charlie from home. Several times his father had 
told him to “either conform to the rules of this 
home, or else you can just find your bed and 
board somewhere else.” Charlie was ready to go, 
but mother always compelled him to stay. In 
time father would repent of his haste, when all 
would be well again—until the next time—when 
the same old scene would be reacted. 

It was impossible, of course, that this condition 
of affairs should run on forever. There was 
bound to come a breaking time—a time when the 
issue would be carried a little too far—when both 
parties took a position from which they could not 
gracefully recede. This breaking time came, and 
Charlie accepted the invitation to “get out, and 
stay out,” and, in spite of all his good mother’s 
efforts to restore the equilibrium of the home, his 
father and he refused to be reconciled; so Charlie 
left the shelter of the parental roof. 

. He was able to earn his own way, completing 
his studies through high school, and then going 
to college for a number of years. Finishing this, 
he accepted a position in the engineering depart¬ 
ment of a railway company, and while there 
sought and won the hand and heart of Agnes 
Reid, one of the finest young women of Oswego, 
New York. 

There was not a more handsome nor better- 
hearted fellow on the road than Charlie Sweet, 
and he made what was considered an ideal hus¬ 
band; in fact, many were the congratulations 
which Agnes received from her friends on merit¬ 
ing such a fine prize. Their life was as happy as 


140 Romances of the Rugged Road 

one could wish, and in time two bright little tots 
came to gladden the home. 

A few years later he was offered a better paying 
position with a western road, so he took it and 
went out to California to work on the construction 
of a new branch line, leaving his little family in 
the east. 

Here he got on well for a time and his letters 
home were always filled with cheer, and expressed 
great pleasure in his work. During his spare 
time, however, which was generally a lonesome 
time, he fell into the habit of frequenting the 
saloons and gambling-houses which were a promi¬ 
nent part of all the new towns along the right of 
way of the new railway. For a time this did not 
interfere with his regular habits of life, but more 
and more the temptation to stay just a little 
longer in these places grew upon him, and he soon 
began to neglect his work. He always kept up a 
steady correspondence with home, never failing 
to keep them well supplied with funds. But this 
mode of life was destined to lead him into trouble, 
and eventually it did, the upshot of the matter 
being that he lost his position with the road and 
drifted about from place to place looking for 
employment. 

It was while out of a job that he fell in with 
some prospectors who gave him glowing accounts 
of the diggings, told him of the excellent chances 
of striking it rich, and urged him to take a hand. 
Charlie had always preferred to play a sure thing, 
rather than take a wild chance on a mere prospect, 
but the other fellows kept at him until they finally 
induced him to throw in his lot with them. 

Success was very spasmodic—sometimes he had 


141 


The Cabin Tells a Story 

plenty to send home—and sometimes—there was 
nothing. There came a time when he had nothing 
most of the time. Goaded by the thought that 
he must send them something, he was tempted to 
take unto himself the earnings of another, and 
this inclination grew upon him until he simply 
gave himself up to a life of pillage. Of a com¬ 
manding physique, he soon established a reputa¬ 
tion for having his own way, his pals falling 
naturally into listening to his advice. They found 
that it had a salutary effect upon their health and 
longevity to do so. 

The primitive instinct to take by might what 
he could not obtain otherwise grew upon him. 
There were times, it is true, when he hated and 
despised himself for so doing, but all the time he 
kept diving deeper and deeper into the abysmal 
sea of crime, until he finally became an outlaw, 
and as such he found that every man’s hand was 
against him. 

But, no matter what sort of a life a man may 
choose, he will always find a kindred spirit, and 
meeting up with a few of these, together they 
formed the band of outlaws which became the 
terror of that country. What they wanted they 
took, regardless, often, of whether the owner was 
looking or not. In fact this was more often the 
case than otherwise. Whether it was an express 
train, a stage-coach, a bank, or just a lone pros¬ 
pector somewhere, it made but little difference to 
them. In the parlance of the street, “All was fish 
that came to their nets.” 

Charlie Sweet not only changed his mode of 
living, but, like many of the inhabitants of this 
new country, he changed his name as well, and as 


142 Romances of the Rugged Road 

Bill Granger he was a hail-fellow well met—afraid 
of nothing, true to his pals, and a jolly devil-may- 
care all-round sport. In spite of his reckless 
demeanor, there were times when his pals caught 
him in a pensive mood. There seemed to be some 
great sorrow or some inexplicable burden that 
rested upon him. No amount of quizzing could 
induce him to unburden his mind, and thus his 
pals knew nothing of his past, for Bill was no 
talker. 

The real truth of the matter was that the little 
wife and the children were constantly in his mind, 
and he looked forward to the time when he could 
by some stroke of good fortune make a cleaning, 
abandon his old haunts forever, and return to his 
happy home. 

It was no wonder, then, that he was determined 
that no harm should come to Safrona. 

“Bill Granger may be a bad man,” he would 
say, “but he does know how to treat a woman” 

Bill knew considerable about the Bible too— 
more than once his partners had chided him about 
being cut out for a preacher, instead of an outlaw. 

He may have been some relation to the bandit 
who was holding up a party in Yellowstone Park, 
when he came to a fellow among the group of 
passengers who were standing with hands held 
high above their heads, who said, “You wouldn’t 
rob a preacher, would you?” “Are you a preach¬ 
er? What church do you belong to?” “Metho¬ 
dist,” the preacher gasped. “Oh, that’s all right, 
you can put your hands down, I’m a Methodist, 
too,” the bandit replied. 

There was a reason for Bill’s ability to quote 


The Cabin Tells a Story 143 

from the Book something to cover most every 
experience. 

His letters home had been sent of late only after 
long intervals, for it was not safe to risk mailing 
them, nor to call for a reply. This was why he 
had treasured so highly the letters which Dangity 
and Safrona had found in the old sack. They 
were the last ones from home, and at sundry 
times he might have been seen to slip them out 
and read them when none of the gang were 
around. They were the cords of affection that 
bound him to the past. 

Of late the band had been sorely pressed by the 
posse that was on their trail. Bill had the repu¬ 
tation of being a man who would stop at nothing 
in order to gain his ends, when he started out on 
a rampage. He had often declared that he would 
sell his life dearly, should the selling time ever 
arrive, and, while he was conscious that that time 
might arrive almost any day, still he was some¬ 
what unprepared for the treachery of Sam and 
Pete. A man ought to be able to trust his own 
pals a little bit, he always figured. But it was 
trusting his cousin, Bob Ford, that cost Jesse 
James his life in the little cabin that day, and Bill 
had been taken in almost the same trap. He had 
died, as he often said he would, like a man, with 
his boots on, and, as Dangity had said, he had 
steered his own frail barque into the port of miss¬ 
ing men. His wife and children were destined to 
look in vain for the letter from Daddy that would 
never come. 

Dangity and Safrona were absorbed in examin¬ 
ing the papers when they were startled by a pistol 
shot, and rushed out in time to see the smoke 


144 Romances of the Rugged Road 

rising from a gun in the hand of Pete who was 
lying quite still with his bloody face upturned to 
the sky. They waited a few minutes for fear he 
might turn the gun on them, but, seeing no sign 
of life in him, Dangity went over and grabbed the 
gun, but his precautions were unnecessary, for 
Pete had gone to join his pals in that place where 
“the worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched.” 

In some way he had worked his way over to 
where one of the guns were lying, and, being over¬ 
come with remorse and the fear of the punishment 
which no doubt awaited him, he had concluded to 
follow his companions into the land of shadows. 

As the shot echoed and died away among the 
hills, the young visitors were well-nigh panic- 
stricken as they stood alone in the uncanny pres¬ 
ence of so much bloodshed and death. There was 
something nerve-racking and ghastly about the 
whole spooky affair, and they were determined 
to quit the unholy place as quickly as possible 
before some new calamity should overtake them. 

They returned to finish looking over the letters 
in the cabin, and to put the sack back in its hiding 
place. Safrona insisted on keeping the last letter 
and the picture of the little girl, intending to write 
to them should she ever find their address, which 
had been carefully removed, no doubt for good 
reasons. 

They had just finished their work and were 
preparing to leave the cabin when a shot rang out, 
and they were commanded in loud tones to “come 
out a there now ’nd surrender in the name of the 
law!” 

They looked at each other in blank astonish¬ 
ment and dread. What new terror was this which 


145 


The Cabin Tells a Story 

threatened them? Surely they had seen enough 
of adventure—was more about to be thrust upon 
them? 

But the people outside were evidently impa¬ 
tient, for the voice rang out a second time, “Come 
outa there at once or we’ll fire—’nd come out 
backwards and with your hands up, or you’re all 
dead men.” 

They talked the matter over a few moments and 
Dangity was for taking a shot at the strangers 
outside with Bill’s rifle, but Safrona begged him 
not to, saying it would only start another fight 
and perhaps they would not come out as well in 
the next one as they had the last one, so Dangity 
yielded to her advice. 

Cautiously they emerged, and when the posse 
saw them they were all ready to fall from their 
horses with amazement, so great was their sur¬ 
prise, for, instead of seeing, as they had expected, 
one or more desperadoes armed to the teeth, there 
came out a green-looking slender youth, and a slip 
of a girl, and both of them the most innocent¬ 
looking tenderfeet in the world. 

“Good gosh, boys! What in tarnation is this? 
What does this mean?” the leader of the band 
gasped as he looked from one to the other of his 
companions, who laughed, and began to tuck their 
guns away. “You sure got me, Al,” several of 
them piped up at once, as Dangity and Safrona 
stood staring at them. 

“Well, come on Bo, tell us all about it,” the 
leader demanded. “What does these fellas mean 
layin’ out here?” 

Dangity rehearsed to them as rapidly as pos- 


146 Romances of the Rugged Road 

sible the events of the morning, and of how they 
came to find the cabin. 

“Well, well,” exclaimed the sheriff when he was 
through, for such he was, “you sure musta 
stumbled on this joint by accident—why, we ben 
a huntin' for this gang fer months ’nd couldn’t 
find them.” Dangity wondered if they really 
wanted to find them, but he restrained himself 
from making any comment as to that, and he said 
nothing regarding the find in the cabin, either. 

From the posse Dangity got something of the 
history of the gang. These fellows were the rem¬ 
nant of the gang that had held up the stage-coach, 
and who had terrorized this part of the country 
for the past year or more. The one known as Bill 
had been the ringleader and brains of the bunch. 

The sheriff and his men gathered up whatever 
might be of service to them in the way of evi¬ 
dence, while they also loaded the bodies of the two 
men onto their horses, and took them along for 
purposes of identification, for there was a reward 
upon the head of each, “dead or alive.” 

They had two extra horses from among their 
mounts and these were assigned to Safrona and 
Dangity. He managed to sit his horse quite com¬ 
fortably, but Safrona provided all sorts of amuse¬ 
ment as she endeavored to master hers. It took 
the efforts of three men to get her safely seated 
astride the astonished beast, which had perhaps 
never seen a bunch of flapping skirts before. He 
was determined to get rid of the unsightly con¬ 
traption that had fastened itself upon his back, 
and he tried several well-known methods of doing 
so, but to no avail. Safrona was game and grab¬ 
bing the pommel of the saddle she managed to 


147 


The Cabin Tells a Story 

hang on until the brute cooled down. Finding that 
she was perfectly harmless, as many another 
animal who has been frightened by a woman has 
found, he accepted her presence in a more peace¬ 
ful frame of mind. 

Dangity and another fellow rode alongside of 
her and with this extra guard the party left the 
scene of so much bloodshed and trouble. There 
were two of them, at least, who hoped that they 
would soon find a place to get something to eat 
and where they might rest their tired nerves 
after the terrific strain of the last few hours. 

In commenting on the death of the robbers, the 
sheriff shook his head and said, “That’s the way 
they all go. I tell ya there’s one scripture they 
all know in this country, and that’s that one where 
it sez, ‘The way of the transgressor’s hard.’ I’m 
tellin’ ya it’s hard all right,” he continued. 

Safrona was the center of attraction to the 
members of the posse. A woman—and especially 
a good-looking young woman—was a rare visitor 
to these parts, and it is not to be wondered at 
that all insisted on paying her extra attentions. 
Some allowed as how she was married, and some 
thought that she was still a “maverick.” In fact 
Dangity began to feel just a little jealous of their 
over-anxiety for her welfare. It expended itself 
in good-natured bantering, however, for he was 
too glad to get out of his predicament to take any¬ 
thing seriously just now. The only time some 
fellows take an interest in a girl is when some one 
else seems to want her. I guess we are all a sort 
of distant relation to that famous dog who slept 
in the manger. 

A few hours’ ride brought them to a station 


148 Romances of the Rugged Road 

where they found food and shelter, and, oh boy! 
How they did eat! The old coach had been brought 
up and Safrona was able to secure a change of 
clothing, for what she had on was pretty much 
in rags, and she began to look respectable again. 
Save for a few scratches and bruises which came 
from her fight with Pete, she was as good-look¬ 
ing as ever. 

The capture of the evidence of the wiping out 
of the gang caused no little excitement, and the 
members of the posse were especially pleased that 
they were in position to claim the reward offered 
for their extinction or capture. 

Dangity and Safrona should have had a large 
part of the reward, but as neither of them knew 
about it they could not legally lay any claim to it, 
so they lost out on a division of the spoils, al¬ 
though they did divide the contents of the sack 
between them. 

Dangity decided to change his plans about go¬ 
ing on to Alturas. He had no particular reason 
for this, excepting that he had been told that 
there were large ranches near here that he could 
likely get a job at, and he also feared that to con¬ 
tinue in the presence of his new found friend 
might eventually interfere with his plans to ride 
the trail alone. Not that there might be any real 
danger of complications, but he was determined to 
keep well over to the opposite side of the channel 
in order that he might not be attracted by the 
siren voices which called to him across the en¬ 
chanted sea, and invited him to leave his true 
course. 

Safrona was visibly disappointed when she 


149 


The Cabin Tells a Story 

learned that he was to go no further, for she 
had formed a strong attachment for him. True, 
she owed him something for the way he had 
befriended her, even saving her life. She felt in¬ 
clined to take his refusal to continue the journey 
as a desire to get away from her. To tell the 
truth she wasn’t far astray in her prognostica¬ 
tions, but he didn’t think that she suspected him 
of using such low-down motives. He could very 
easily have continued in her company; indeed, it 
required some effort for him to tear himself away 
from her, but he had made up his mind to steer a 
new course as a matter of precaution, and nothing 
could swerve him from his purpose. 

He had a soft place in his heart for the weaker 
sex, but he knew his own weakness best, and he 
concluded this would be a good time to shake loose 
any attachments that might be forming about 
him. He was anxious to keep his head out of the 
noose as long as possible, so he rallied his will 
power and veered his course just in time. 

A strange tide of circumstance had thrown him 
into the company of a very fine young lady, who 
seemed to be open for an attachment, and now 
by his own divinings another drift in the tide 
was to bear them apart. It was a narrow escape; 
several times he had been on the point of throw¬ 
ing his high resolves to the winds, but the 
thought of the consequences had managed to re¬ 
strain him. This little romance was over, how¬ 
ever, and as he watched the coach bearing Miss 
Safrona Fleming disappear from sight on its way 
to Alturas, he breathed a mingled sigh of sorrow 
and relief as he said to himself, “Well, here I am, 
still single, unroped and unbranded,” and he 


150 Romances of the Rugged Road 

laughed a merry chuckle as he strode back to the 
hotel—alone. 

He was maturing into a man very rapidly. It 
was said of Napoleon that when he was about to 
be turned down by the Chamber of Deputies for 
the command in Italy, because of his youth, his 
ready answer won the day. 

“Men age rapidly, Sires,” said he, “upon the 
field of battle.” The field of action was building 
up and developing Dangity very rapidly in the 
ways of the world. 

He felt as though he had added many years to 
his life during the past few weeks. He also re¬ 
alized that he was not as strong physically as he 
should be, and in order to overcome this dispar¬ 
agement he was willing to undergo any amount 
of hardship or privation or hard training—a price 
which many, alas, shrink from paying today. 

He wanted to be able to ride well, and to handle 
a gun properly, for he knew that if he was to hold 
his own among the rugged men he had seen in 
this country he must improve greatly. He had 
an ambition to be able to meet and match the best 
of them, physically at least, and he could only 
hope to do this through a rigid course of action 
which would develop him. The range offered the 
surest road to this desired end and so he deter¬ 
mined to get out as soon as possible and mix it 
with the men he met there. 


Learning New Tricks 


151 


CHAPTER VIII 
Learning New Tricks 

In a few days he met up with a man who ran a 
supply wagon out among the ranches on Madeline 
Plains. He fixed up a deal with him and together 
they made the journey out into the cow-country. 

The teamster proved to be an old-timer in this 
western country and he told Dangity of many of 
the depredations that had been laid to the notori¬ 
ous Granger gang in that part of the country dur¬ 
ing the past few months. 

“I opine that ’er way a grabbin’ what don’t be¬ 
long ta ya ain’t the best sort o’ way ta git things,” 
he remarked laconically as he cracked his long 
whip and knocked a persistent fly off the ear of 
the nigh-side leader. 

“It looks like an easy way to get it,” Dangity 
suggested. “Yes, it looks easy, but it ain’t. I 
seen lots o’ fellas that thought gittin’ things as 
didn’t belong to them was easy, but they nearly 
all got fooled, ’cepting them as took it ’cordin’ ta 
law. Ef you’re smart enough, you c’n do it ’cordin’ 
ta law, but ef ya ain't, ya better jist make up yer 
mind ta work fer it.” 

“Well, I’m expecting to work for all I get,” 
Dangity assured him stoutly. “I don’t want what 
belongs to anyone else, I don’t.” 

“Wouldn’t mind takin’ a gal what belonged to 


152 Romances of the Rugged Road 

someone else, would ya?” The old man eyed him 
keenly as he listened for his reply. 

“No, I wouldn’t even steal a girl either! If 
another fellow wants a girl more than I do, or if 
she wants him, I am perfectly willing to let them 
have their way.” 

“Ic’n see you got some sense ta start with, 
partner,” the driver admitted admiringly. “Wisht 
I’d a had some of it when I was your age. Got 
into a peck o’ trouble, I did, stealin’ a gal away 
frum another fella once. Pritty nigh cost me me 
life. Pritty soon the gal tuk up with another 
feller, ’nd I ben a single man ever sense. No, sir, 
stealin’ a woman’s a bad game, sez I.” 

“Well, I’m absolutely free from that kind of 
trouble—absolutely—for there’s no one in the 
wide world cares a straw for me,” Dangity ex¬ 
claimed confidently. 

“You never c’n tell. Women are funny critters 
ya know. Sometimes jist when ya think they 
don’t care, they’re likely ta cry their fool heads 
off. No, sir, ya cain’t tell nuthin’ about them, 
don’t be too sure thet no one cares,” the old team¬ 
ster warned as he shook his head sadly and swung 
his long lash onto another roosting fly. 

The second day they came to a bunch of corrals 
on a large ranch on the Eastern side of Madeline 
Plains. They drove alongside a big corral where 
a bunch of “punchers” were gathered around a 
blanket which they had spread out on the ground. 
Several of them were engaged in a game of cards 
while the rest of the party looked on. In front 
of each player lay a gun and a bunch of “jack.” 
It must have been for a good-sized ante, for they 


Learning Neiu Tricks 153 

were so much interested in it that they scarcely 
noticed the arrival of the trader and Dangity. 

Some of them, however, eyed him sharply, mak¬ 
ing some comments to each other that escaped 
his hearing. After a time the play began to lag, 
or some one got all the money, for they left off 
playing and gathered in a group near by. 

Dangity could see that they were nodding their 
heads towards him while others laughed and 
joked about something that semed to tickle their 
fancy. Perhaps they wanted a livelier game! 

Pretty soon two of them went into one of the 
corrals, where a lot of horses were running loose, 
and proceeded to rope the toughest-looking one in 
the bunch. 

There were some twenty men in all—most of 
them young fellows—some mere boys, in fact, 
and they made a natty looking outfit togged out 
in wide hats and chaps, with topboots and other 
doodads stuck on here and there. 

They seemed to be much interested in the rop¬ 
ing, and when they got the kicking, rearing, un¬ 
willing brute out in the open they all crowded 
around it, making many jocular suggestions as to 
its looks and temper, etc. 

One of the punchers edged up to Dangity and 
asked him how he liked that way of catching 
them. 

“Looks like a good way to me, but seems like 
it’s pretty hard on the horse, though.” 

“Oh no, ya mustn’t mind that. Kill the brutes 
if they don’t savvy. A horse or two less don’t 
matter anyhow. The woods is full of them,” the 
puncher growled reproachfully as he went on to 
say, when Dangity objected. 


154 Romances of the Rugged Road 

“Ho, ho! So you’re a tender-hearted bird, are 
ya? Well you’ll git a little iron in your blood if 
you stay around this outfit long,” he almost 
shouted as he stopped in front of Dangity and 
eyed him keenly, with both hands stuck in his 
belt. 

Dangity looked off to one side and before they 
could continue the discussion one of the gang hol¬ 
lered out to know how they were gittin’ along as 
they got a hackamore onto the head of the plung¬ 
ing, cantankerous beast the better to hold him. 
“We’ll be ready in a minute now—just as soon as 
we git him awake; ya hefta hev them awake for 
this job, ya know,” one of them shot back. 

In a few moments they were ready, for several 
cried, “All ready, fetch ’im along now,” when to 
Dangity’s horror and surprise two or three of the 
men grabbed him and hustled him alongside the 
shaking horse. Here several grabbed him and 
attempted to throw him onto the back of the 
horse, which jumped and kicked so he was thrown 
heavily to the ground. He was fighting his best 
to prevent being put back on board, but the bunch 
were too many for him, although he did give the 
guy he had been talking to a cuckoo of a lam in 
the face that brought back a stinging kick which 
Dangity was painfully conscious of even above 
the current of fright that surged through him. 

“Hang to him, boys, hang to him. Don’t let 
him git away; we’ll make a puncher a him yit, 
he’s got the grit all right,” the men were chirp¬ 
ing to each other, as they landed him on the top 
of the horse once more. This time they hobbled 
his feet together under the horse’s belly, and then 
with a hell-a-belloo and a sharp cut from several 


Learning New Tricks 155 

quirts the punchers jumped back and the horse 
shot out across the prairie like a thing possessed, 
with Dangity fastened securely on its back. 
There was neither bridle nor saddle on it, and, 
while Dangity was thoroughly frightened, he was 
perfectly helpless, as far as controlling the thing 
was concerned. 

The horse, more frightened than its rider, tore 
out across the plain, hoping to run away from the 
strange thing upon its back. This being impos¬ 
sible, it next took to throwing itself from side to 
side and standing on its hind feet, and then low¬ 
ering its head it plunged forward, suddenly stop¬ 
ping, in an effort to throw him over its head. 
Finding this useless, it next threw itself onto the 
ground and tried to roll over. It looked as if 
Dangity would be crushed, or his legs broken but 
he yelled at the brute and slapped it on the head 
with his hand, and after giving his leg a terrific 
squeeze the horse jumped to its feet and looked 
around at him as if to say, “Well, you’re still 
there, old top, are you ? Well, you may stay there 
for all I care; I’m through; let’s go home,” and 
turning it around he ran it back to the corral. 

“Well done, kid! well done; you’ll make a buck- 
eroo yet,” several of the bunch shouted at him. 
“You’re sure some sticker fer a tenderfoot,” a 
big fellow volunteered as they all crowded around 
shouting his praise as a rider. “You fellows sure 
gave me a scare,” he panted between breaths. “I 
sure thought I was going to Kingdom-come more 
than once,” he continued as he struck the ground 
and looked around with a sheepish-looking grin. 

The fellow whom he had hit in the tussle edged 
up to him and hissed in his ear, “I’ll git you sonny 


156 Romances of the Rugged Road 

if you stay around this joint, ’nd don’t ya forgit 
it either,” but before he could commit any vio¬ 
lence a stocky young fellow caught him by the 
arm and whirled him around while he told him in 
meaningful tones to “lay offa that kid now and 
none o’ your meanness or I’ll bump you off my¬ 
self.” 

Turning to Dangity, he asked, “Say, fella, 
where’re you from anyhow?” 

“Maine,” Dangity replied rather proudly. 

“From Maine! How in the world did you ever 
find your way into this God-forsaken country 
then?” 

“Why I just started out and kept on a going 
till I got here,” he grinned. The rest of the men 
were laughing too and looking in his direction in 
a way that excited his suspicions, and he won¬ 
dered what new experiment he would meet with 
next. It made him uneasy. He didn’t mind tak¬ 
ing part in a little innocent fun; but landsakes! 
what these fellows called fun meant next thing to 
death. He didn’t have long to wait. The next 
move was to spread a big blanket out on the 
ground, and first thing Dangity knew he was 
thrown none too gently into the center of it, when 
all hands gathered round and gave him the bounc¬ 
ing of his life. He must have been thrown twenty 
feet into the air, until it seemed that surely his 
neck would be broken. 

“H-h-hey g-g-go easy t-t-there,” he chattered, 
“or y-y-you’ll b-b-break my neck.” 

“If you’re agoin’ ta travel with us we hev ta 
’nitiate ya,” one of them informed him as he was 
being bounced around; sometimes hitting the 
ground with a crash. When they had done their 


Learning New Tricks 157 

wprst he scrambled to his feet, while the bunch 
gathered round and shook his hand saying, “Put 
’er there, pard; you’re sure one uv tha gang now, 
you be.” 

He hoped that the initiation ceremonies were 
over, for he was feeling rather squeamish about 
then. 

It seemed that they were, for the gang broke 
up and went their several ways, while he lay down 
on a bunch of hay to allow his system to settle 
down a little. 

He was sure this was the place for him to 
learn what he wanted to. There would surely be 
plenty of riding, and this was what he needed to 
build him up. He wasn’t just sure how much 
trouble he might have with the fellow who had 
picked a quarrel with him, but he hoped for the 
best. No doubt there would be friends who would 
take his part. Out here among these strange sur¬ 
roundings a friend or two would likely stand him 
well in hand. 

His thoughts wandered back to Jemima and her 
apparent interest in his welfare. He could not 
bring himself to believe that she was at all sin¬ 
cere, but after all he thought a good deal of her. 
Then there was Safrona. How happy he felt in 
her company! What a strange circumstance had 
thrown them so closely together, and yet he knew 
nothing of her aside from a brief acquaintance. 
Perhaps he had done wrong in leaving her so 
abruptly, and yet he feared that to have remained 
with her would have been to sacrifice some of his 
cherished plans. 

Thinking along this line for a time, his over¬ 
wrought nerves began to relax, and he was soon 


158 Romances of the Rugged Road 

asleep, and knew nothing more until some one 
called him to supper. 

After supper was over, the foreman came to 
him and asked him if he wanted to ride on that 
ranch. ‘‘Yes, you bet I’d like to; that is, if you 
think I can do it,” Dangity replied eagerly. 

‘‘Do it! Why, Bo, a fellow who can stick a 
horse like you did, can ride anything that walks,” 
he said laughing, until Dangity was not sure 
whether he meant what he said or was just tak¬ 
ing a new fall out of him. The detail of the mat¬ 
ter being attended to, he was told he could keep 
the horse he had first ridden, and he and it later 
became fast friends. 

The next morning the foreman shouted, “Here, 
Al, take this grocery clerk down to the stores and 
give him a good outfit,” when a lean, wiry-looking 
cuss stepped out and Dangity recognized him as 
one of the bunch who had tied him onto the 
horse. 

“What’s this rig going to cost me?” he asked 
when he had been fitted out and looked as trim as 
a new bride. “Oh, you don’t want to pay no Men¬ 
tion to that, this will all come outa your wages 
at the end of your hitch here.” Just as if what 
comes out of your wages doesn’t cost you as much 
as if you paid real money for it. 

Dangity surely looked and acted green as he 
stepped around trying to get accustomed to his 
new outfit, and then the job of getting his new 
mount saddled and bridled—this was something 
which took three of them at least an hour to ac¬ 
complish, but the brute was finally conquered and 
Dangity was helped into his place on its back. 

Oh boy! he had a lively time; once he got cata- 


Learning New Tricks 159 

pulted clear over the horse’s head, and once it 
tried to roll over with him on its back, but one of 
his pals gave it a rap over the head with his quirt 
that brought it to its feet with a jump and Dan- 
gity managed to hold on to it with one foot in a 
stirrup and both hands grasping the saddle. How¬ 
ever he stuck to his mount like a leech and in a 
few days he got so he could ride it very well. 

He found out that he had a lot to learn, and 
often got bucked off, and was forever getting 
either himself or his horse tangled up in his riata. 
Many a good laugh the bunch had at his expense, 
especially when he tried to rope a running steer. 
Getting the loop over the big horns took a lot of 
practice, and then when it came to deftly catch¬ 
ing a kicking foot, that required still further skill. 
Even after the animal had been roped he found 
that it was no sinecure to make a running hitch 
to the horn of the saddle, and he lost more than 
one riata in learning this trick. He was persis¬ 
tent and determined and in time he mastered the 
line arts of the regular professional puncher. 

He found that the boys, for the most part, were 
a good-natured bunch—kind enough in their own 
way, after a fashion, but rough players, and good 
friends withal, but bad enemies. Buck Perkins, 
the foreman, treated him white and gave him 
every chance to make good, but more than once 
he had to fight for his rights with the rest of the 
gang. The fellow who was so cocky the day of 
Dangity’s arrival soon got into an argument with 
him, and one day they had the matter out in the 
old-fashioned way with bare knuckles, and while 
he was older than Dangity he had no cinch in dis¬ 
posing of him, which he did, however, after a se- 


160 Romances of the Rugged Road 

vere scrap in which both of them were consider¬ 
ably cut up. He soon learned that the law of 
might held here as well as elsewhere. It is an 
old saying that men seldom tease a bulldog. 

Since nicknames are all the go in the cow-coun¬ 
try, it was natural that Dangity should soon be 
given his. When he struck the ranch he still wore 
a derby hat and from that day his name was “The 
Dude,” and he was known as The Dude every¬ 
where he went. 

The summer passed quickly and pleasantly. The 
active life in the open had worked wonders for 
him physically, and he had grown from a slim, 
timid boy into a robust, fearless man. His appe¬ 
tite was so ravenous that often he was ashamed 
to satisfy it, the gang jollied him so about it, and 
his great and only anxiety was to find enough to 
eat. 

The cold, short days of early fall were setting 
in when he was chosen from among a bunch of 
punchers who were to take a herd of “shippers” 
to the market at Reno. This was considered a 
high honor, for all of the boys were anxious to 
get into town, and the chance to make this trip 
was the event of the season. 

“My, I’m sure in luck,” he chuckled to Long Al. 
“Yes, you seem to be the candy kid with the gum 
leg around here,” he growled. 

“It’s pretty hard to beat The Dude when it 
comes to getting the best of a deal, but then he 
alius does his work up right, ’nd he has a right ta 
go,” Slim Pete broke in. “Yes, but ’tain’t the guy 
that earns things es alius gets them in this 
world,” Rusty Ike opined as he lighted up an¬ 
other coffin-nail. 


Learning New Tricks 161 

“Well, I’ll tell you, boys, HI bring all of you 
back something to remember me by, when I come 
back from Reno,” Dangity volunteered. 

“Oh yes, when you come back from Reno, oh 
yes. Say, Bo, when they ketch a Dude like you in 
Reno they’ll never let you get away; we’ll never 
see you in this lonesome hole again,” Long Al, 
who seemed inclined to be pessimistic this morn¬ 
ing, replied sullenly. Dangity assured them that 
he would be back very soon, when he left with the 
rest of the gang and the bunch of stock, although 
he was in high glee to think of getting away from 
the lonesome routine of the ranch. 

When he reached Reno, and all of the stock had 
been secured in the shipping corrals, they were 
free to take in the town, or do anything they 
wished. Most of the fellows made for a saloon in 
the hope of getting something strong to drink, 
where, after a lonesome life on the plains, they 
were glad to meet and mingle with the outside 
world again, and to quaff long and deep of the 
cheering concoctions they found there. Having 
been separated from it for a long period, they 
would approach the game with a renewed vigor. 

As for Dangity, he made straight for a restau¬ 
rant. He wanted to find something good to eat 
—something new, something different from the 
daily ration of the ranch—and he certainly or¬ 
dered a bumper meal, in fact, it made the girl who 
came to take his order ask when he expected the 
rest of the party to be ready for the orders. “The 
rest of the party! Say, there isn’t any party 
coming, I want this order all for myself.” 

“Oh, excuse me, I beg your pardon; I thought 
you were ordering for some friends who were 


162 Romances of the Rugged Road 

coming in later,” she stammered in a confused 
way, seeing that she had put her foot in it, so to 
speak. 

How he did enjoy that meal! He was very 
much of a sensualist—he liked plenty of enticing 
things to eat. After stowing away all that his 
limited capacity would allow, he went out for a 
walk feeling as proud as a king, as he strode up 
and down the streets of the little town. He was 
as well dressed as any “range hounds” he met, and 
to tell the truth he really made a handsome figure 
as he strutted about in the garb of a puncher. He 
felt that he was no longer a greenhorn or a ten¬ 
derfoot, but was as cultured now as any old-timer. 

The rest of the party were in no hurry to re¬ 
turn to the ranch, so day after day they continued 
to indulge in the round of pleasure, and to take in 
the sights of Reno. If one had plenty of money, 
there were many ways of enjoying oneself here, 
after the manner of men. The saloons still proved 
to be the main gathering place, while others 
sought the gaming-tables, while for others the 
dance-halls proved a great attraction, for there 
the amusement lasted far into the night. 

To those who wished to combine business with 
pleasure, the gaming-houses offered the most con¬ 
genial method, as here one can transact important 
financial dealings under the magic of pleasant sur¬ 
roundings. Dangity tried his hand at the game 
and was successful in making substantial win¬ 
nings, until he began to think that he could “buck 
the tiger” and make money easier this way than 
he could by working. 

During his stay he made repeated visits to the 
restaurant where he had startled the waitress by 


Learning New Tricks 163 

his abnormal appetite, and he came to be on very 
friendly terms with her who was known in the 
parlance of the street as the “hasher.” 

Together they took to spending most of their 
evenings at the dance. She was a good-looking, 
buxom girl, of a “fetching” personality, and still 
about twenty years young. It is usually the case 
that where a girl is ready to pick up with every 
new fellow who comes along she soon has a lot of 
strings to her bow, or has a lot of beaus with 
strings on them. I don’t know which would be 
the correct statement of the case. However, Dan- 
gity soon found that he was treading on someone 
else’s toes in his ardent attentions to the “hasher” 
lady. 

There are some fellows who only enjoy fighting 
for a girl whom every one else wants, and there 
are others who prefer easier game. Too often the 
fellow who succeeds in winning the prize away 
from a lot of other ardent admirers finds that 
what he really has won is the right to foot the 
bills, while the apparent losers still occupy a large 
place in her affections. In other words the prize 
winner in the sprint is the loser in the long run. 

Dangity was young, stubborn and foolish, and, 
while he had no intention of becoming the main¬ 
stay of any deserving young maiden, he was just 
ardent enough in his desires to enjoy taking her 
away from another unworthy galoot, so he 
pressed his attentions, which were returned four¬ 
fold into his bosom. 

The girl was good-looking, a fine dancer, and 
might be called clever, by some, and, while she 
was considered a good sport, she was not as rough 
nor as bold as some who were considered such, 


164 Romances of the Rugged Road 

and apparently she had a strong attachment for 
Dangity—I say, apparently, for often appearances 
are deceiving where a woman is concerned. 

But the world is full of “joy-killers,” and, as 
envy is ever the malicious foe of virtue, it wasn’t 
long until he found that he was a marked man— 
marked for sundry and divers kinds of vengeance 
—for one day he received a letter marked with a 
skull and cross-bones, warning him that if he 
wanted to continue to enjoy the free air of Ne¬ 
vada he had better leave town at once. I said 
Dangity was stubborn, therefore this letter only 
made him the more determined to stay. “I guess 
that guy must think I’m a tenderfoot,” he laughed 
to himself as he read the letter over and over. 

He was eating breakfast a few mornings later, 
and taking up as much of his fair one’s time as 
possible, to the chagrin of several other patrons 
who were in a hurry to get to their daily work, 
when one of them spoke up, “Say, ain’t we goin’ 
to get any service over this way this morning,” as 
he looked daggers at Dangity. If there is one 
thing more than another that will stir up all the 
devil there is in a man, it is to sit around and 
wait for a waitress who is spending her time in 
visiting with a favorite patron, and the fellows 
who were waiting this morning were especially 
jealous and impatient. 

“Oh don’t get in a rush now, Bo,” the girl shot 
back at the fellow impatiently. 

“Well, don’t waste all your time on that guy 
there; I guess our money’s as good as his’n ain’t 
it?” another called. 

“Aw, you smarties go ’nd tell your troubles to 
a policeman, will ya?” she snapped back at them. 


Learning New Tricks 165 

Dangity, not to be outdone, spoke up, “This 
young lady can spend as much time with me as 
she has a mind to, ’nd I’d like to see any of you 
fellows stop her.” 

“Is that so?” the first speaker came back. 
“Well, if you think so much of the girl why don’t 
you marry her so she won’t have to waste her time 
in a place like this, and maybe some one else will 
get the job who will look after it.” 

That same night some of these fellows were at 
the dance and one of them got peeved when the 
girl refused to dance with him, and said some un¬ 
kind things to her, and of course she told Dan- 
gity she had been insulted, and he was furious. 

If there is one thing that will get a fellow into 
trouble quicker than another, it is to become the 
guardian angel of some hot-tempered girl who is 
playing fast and loose with two or three fellows 
at the same time. I have seen the finest friend¬ 
ships shattered to bits in one night over what 
Kipling calls “a rag, a bone, and a hank o’ hair.” 

When the other fellow looked over and saw the 
girl talking to Dangity, he seemed to guess that 
she was telling him her troubles, and intuitively 
each man began to measure his chances of suc¬ 
cess with the other one. I say intuitively, because 
I believe there is a mental calculation which every 
man makes when he meets his fellow, just as the 
animals size up new acquaintances, to decide as 
to whether or not they might beat them in a tus¬ 
sle. The animal instinct is still with us. I said 
that Dangity was not only young and stubborn, 
but he was also foolish. He proved this when he 
walked boldly over to where the fellow was 


166 Romances of the Rugged Road 

standing and asked him what he meant by insult¬ 
ing his girl. 

“Your girl! Why say, Bo, you don’t think a 
good-looker like that has been livin’ in this town 
all this time ’thout someone claimin’ her, do ya? 
She was mine long before you come nosin’ around 
and stole her away from me.” 

“Well, she’s mine now, ’nd if you don’t leave 
her alone there’ll be trouble brewin’ for you, do 
you get that?” Dangity warned with the best 
show of courage that he could muster. 

“Trouble! Ha, ha! Holy cactus! Say, Bo, you 
just keep away from me and don’t come spillin’ 
the air around here or there won’t be no trouble, 
there’ll just be a funeral, that’s all, and it won’t 
be mine either,” the other fellow snarled threat¬ 
eningly, and Dangity was none too confident of 
his ability to handle him, but now that he had 
made the bluff he realized that in order to look 
well in the eyes of his lady-love he must not show 
any signs of weakening. 

“If you think you’re the man for that kind of 
a job, go right ahead and try it, I guess you’ll find 
that I’m not as easy as I look,” Dangity countered 
as he stood his ground. 

The upshot of the matter was that, since both 
of them had blood in their eye, it wasn’t long 
before they had it on their noses as well, and they 
were soon engaged in a lively tussle to see which 
was the best man. 

In a few minutes the proprietor and two or 
three bouncers rushed in and bundled the two of 
them out into the back yard. “There now, you 
bums can settle your trouble out there,” he blus¬ 
tered as he slammed the door, and left them to 


167 


Learning New Tricks 

fight it out alone. A little diversion like a fight 
must not be allowed to attract the attention of 
the patrons. 

The two men punched and wrestled and rolled 
each other around the yard like good fellows. 
Sometimes one was on top and sometimes the 
other, but they were both smeared and covered 
with dirt and blood, and now pretty well winded. 

Finally Dangity succeeded in getting on top and 
staying there for a while, and soon the other fel¬ 
low was forced to cry “enough” when Dangity let 
him up. 

He was whipped for the time being, but as he 
brushed the mud from his clothes and made off 
out of the yard he whined, “I’ll get even with you 
yet for this, you baby stealer you, curse you; 
we’ll meet again some day!” 

When Dangity returned to the hall to see his 
girl, she was nowhere to be found, but a friend 
told him that she had gone out with another fel¬ 
low. 


168 Romances of the Rugged Road 


CHAPTER IX 
Learning to Live 

He was considerably shocked at the fickleness 
of his lady friend, and when he had time to cool 
off and think the matter over, he made up his 
mind to change his course again. “If I keep on 
running after her, the first thing I know I’ll be 
getting into something serious, so I better quit 
now while the quitting is good,” he muttered to 
himself as he rearranged his tie and brushed the 
mud from his clothes. 

He thus concluded the affair to be ended but 
he was mistaken, for as he was coming down the 
street the next morning who should he run into 
but his adversary of the night before, in com¬ 
pany with several friends. 

There is an old proverb which says, “The wise 
man seeth the evil coming and fleeth, but the 
foolish pass on and are caught.” He knew that 
he was running into trouble, but he was too proud 
to turn aside and let it pass. The moment they 
met they renewed the encounter. It was going 
very evenly and the onlookers were inclined to 
give them an equal chance, and let them fight it 
out on the merits. It was Dangity who threw the 
fight away, by making a wild swing at his oppo¬ 
nent wliich threw him off his balance, and he took 
an ungraceful header into the wall of a building 
which knocked him almost senseless. 


169 


Learning to Live 

As he fell to the sidewalk the other fellow 
jumped on him and began to beat him unmerci¬ 
fully about the head and face, and even turned his 
boots against him and kicked him cruelly as he 
lay, too stunned and helpless to move, while the 
gang hurried out of sight and left him lying there. 

Being an early hour of the morning, he lay some 
time before he was found and carried into a doc¬ 
tor’s office where he was washed and sewed up 
and revived. It hardly seems possible that one 
man would kick another when he is down, but this 
is a favorite pastime among certain rough-and- 
tumble fighters who won’t hesitate to even kick 
a man in the face, a thing which I have seen done 
more than once. 

He was not dangerously hurt, but he was badly 
bruised and cut up by the heavy shoes which came 
in contact with his head and face; in fact, he car¬ 
ried the scars of that fight all his life. 

His beating put him in the hospital for two 
weeks, during which time the girl whom he had 
befriended came to see him, when she overheard 
the other fellow boasting of what he had done. 
She brought him flowers and was very attentive 
to him, but his ardor had cooled off after the way 
she left him the night of the dance, and although 
she hinted that it would be fine to meander down 
the primrose path of life together, plucking the 
delicately scented blossoms by the way, he steeled 
his sympathetic heart against any breaking away 
from his early resolves and thus she finally gave 
him up for a bad job and transferred her atten¬ 
tions elsewhere. 

He had made up his mind to leave Reno as soon 
as he got out again, but when he did so the gay 


170 Romances of the Rugged Road 

life of the town cast a spell over him, and he 
lingered long among its pleasant environs, partly 
because he liked the companionship of friends, 
and partly because he hoped to meet the scoundrel 
who had given him the beating, but in the latter 
he was disappointed, as the fellow evidently got 
out before he did. 

As a matter of fact he spent most of the fol¬ 
lowing year in and around Reno. Sometimes he 
was broke flat with not a penny to go on, and at 
other times he was well heeled, making and losing 
money at the gambling game, or getting a good 
paying job somewhere. When he was broke he 
would take a job at anything that offered; noth¬ 
ing was too hard, nor too humble for him to tackle 
but he resolutely refused to either beg or steal. 
Any old way to make an “honest dollar” was all 
right, but it must be made that way or not at all. 

Withal, he lived rather a gay sort of life, and 
never once had he sent a line or a word home, al¬ 
though he often wondered how they were getting 
along, when he grew lonesome thinking about 
them. The moral atmosphere that surrounded 
him was not the best for a young man of his 
breeding, and often in his work as a cab-driver 
he was brought into contact with strong tempta¬ 
tions, as he was called upon to carry people to 
and from the dances and carousals which were 
held almost nightly among the divorce colony, 
who so often found time a weary burden while 
they were fulfilling the statutory limitations as to 
time of residence in order to comply with the di¬ 
vorce laws. 

It was to be supposed that these people were 
as a rule a discontented lot, and ones who con- 


171 


Learning to Live 

stantly needed some new thrill in order to make 
life at all bearable. Consequently some of these 
thrills were not of an order that would make good 
reading in the newspapers. Some added so 
much spirits to their already high spirits that it 
was necessary to have them spirited away, and 
taken out of sight, and more than once he had 
helped to carry some society dame to her apart¬ 
ments who was unable to reach there by any 
other mode of travel. 

Not all of those who were waiting for clearance 
papers were of this order; some were very re¬ 
fined, but alas! there were those who were in 
reality moral lepers. It was the nocturnal 
escapades of so many of these temporary citizens 
which created an agitation in favor of more rigid 
divorce laws, and caused some of them to be 
amended. 

As I have said, not all of the people were of the 
nighthawk variety; there was a growing commu¬ 
nity of those who made for reform, and were 
working to better conditions, but these folks gen¬ 
erally went to bed early. 

He occasionally met the girl he had taken such 
a fancy to on the start, but as she picked up an¬ 
other defender as soon as Dangity dropped her, he 
was saved from any unpleasant entanglements 
there. He came mighty near being snared, 
though, and, had he not awakened, the noose 
would have been over his head for keeps, but he 
remembered his pledge and squirmed out of the 
hitch before she had a chance to put her brand 
on him. 

Despite all the fleeting joy which he experi¬ 
enced at times, he was tiring of the town and was 


172 Romances of the Rugged Road 

given to long spells of wishing for the free air of 
the plains again. His year in town had netted 
him nothing, he had less money than when he 
struck it. He did run across the fellow who had 
given him the ten-dollar gold piece so generously, 
and found that he was broke, so he had the plea¬ 
sure of passing the help he had received back to 
the same fellow who gave it to him, and they be¬ 
came fast friends. Dangity thanked him many 
times for advising him to try the range. 

Having gotten hold of a fairly decent pony and 
an old outfit, he bid good-by to Reno, its fine girls, 
its good company, and its colony of gold-diggers 
and sports, and struck out for the old ranch, back 
in the cow-country. 

Once clear of the town and its influence, he 
upbraided himself for having wasted so much time 
in it. “Talk about Sodom and Gomorrah,” he 
mused as he rode along, “seems to me that town 
has those places skinned a mile, when it comes 
to downright wickedness. Well, there’s a lot of 
nice people there too,” he concluded, “but, no more 
of Reno for mine, I’ve seen all of that town I ever 
want to see and from now on, Dangity, it’s work 
and save for yours.” 

It was a happy boy that pulled up at the gate of 
the old ranch and hollered “Whoa!” so loud that 
all hands came running out to see what was the 
matter. 

“Well, holy cactus, if it ain’t The Dude!” Long 
A 1 shouted. He came pushing around to greet 
him, for Dangity had the knack of making 
friends wherever he was. Buck, the foreman, 
grabbed his hand like a long-lost brother. “My 
Lord, Kid, but we sure have missed you around 


Learning to Live ' 173 

here; seemed like some one died when you went 
away.” 

“Missed me! Sulphur and molasses! I didn’t 
think anybody would miss me but my mother, no 
matter how long I was gone,” he acknowledged 
confusedly as they poured out their praises upon 
him. 

“Well, you know your mother alius misses you, 
even if nobody else does,” Rusty Ike chipped in, 
at which Dangity winced with remorse when he 
remembered that his mother was probably watch¬ 
ing for him still. “Mother! holy smoke! That 
reminds me that I haven’t written to her since I 
left home,” he confessed regretfully. 

“By thunder, boy, if that’s the case, you bet¬ 
ter write right off; she might be dead fer all you 
know!” Buck warned him, whereupon he prom¬ 
ised to write, but his promise was soon forgotten. 

They all laughed heartily when he told about 
his experience with the girl and more than one 
chimed in, “I told you so; keep away from those 
girls who are public property or you’ll git your 
hair singed if you don’t.” 

He was glad to get back to the regularity and 
the routine of the ranch. He always knew when 
and where he was going to eat, and he was rea¬ 
sonably sure of drawing his pay at the end of the 
month. 

“There’s a lot of the artificial about that town 
stuff, that a fellow doesn’t find in the country,” he 
remarked to one of his pals when they were dis¬ 
cussing the merits of the two. 

Hard work and regular hours soon hardened 
him up again and put him on his toes and gave 


174 Romances of the Rugged Road 

him a contentment and satisfaction that he did 
not experience while loafing about the town. He 
wasn’t a bad sort; when he went wrong he was al¬ 
ways willing to make amends, although he was 
not given to fretting about what was already past 
and gone beyond recall. “No use crying over 
spilled milk, it might be three parts water,” was 
a philosophical saying of his mother’s that he had 
largely adopted as his own. While it was true 
that he hadn’t made any money in Reno, he had 
learned a lot about human nature, and one can¬ 
not expect to get money and experience at the 
same time. 

He had not been long at the ranch when the 
foreman asked him how he would like to take a 
ride up into Oregon. “A trip to Oregon? Say, 
I’m always ready to go anywhere where there is 
something new to see.” 

“That’s what I thought,” Buck replied. “I 
knew you were born with an itchy foot; must be 
on the move all the time, I reckon.” 

“Well, I figure that we’re only going through 
this old world once, and we might as well see all 
we can while we’re on the road,” Dangity laughed 
laconically. 

Next morning he was up early and after a good 
breakfast he got out his horses, one to ride and 
the other to carry a pack, and was on his way 
north into Oregon. When night fell, he was quite 
ready to rest, so he found a sheltered place by a 
little stream, where he tethered out his horses 
and made camp for the night. Here he built a 
fire and placed a large flat stone over it, and while 
this was getting hot he made a batter from the 
flour which he carried, and as soon as the stone 


Learning to Live , 175 

was ready he made a fine stack of steaming hot 
cakes. 

A few strips of bacon and a can of coffee com¬ 
pleted what he termed “one of the best suppers 
he had ever eaten.” It tasted even better than 
some of those he had gotten in Reno, but perhaps 
this was because he had made it himself. 

Having satisfied his hunger, he spread out his 
blankets and sat in the gathering shades of night, 
thinking. Yes, he was actually doing some real 
thinking, and the burden of his thoughts was the 
little town of his youth, and the ones he had left 
there. The more he thought, the more lonesome 
he grew, until, as he afterwards said, if there had 
been any chance he would have headed straight 
for home that night. Perhaps it was because his 
surroundings tonight were conducive to lonesome¬ 
ness and homesickness. Out here alone in God’s 
great out-of-doors, he was impressed by the big¬ 
ness and the emptiness of the world, the stars 
seemed so far away; and all the while the distant 
hills stood as lonely sentinels against the fading 
skyline. The best and only friends he had were 
the horses, who neighed as they picked their sup¬ 
per from among the nearby sage bushes. Sitting 
thus in silent reverie those familiar lines from 
Grey’s Elegy came to him; he had not thought of 
them for months, 

The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, 

The lowing herd winds slowly o’er the lea, 

The plowman homeward plods his weary way, 

And leaves the world to darkness and to me. 

“That’s it, to darkness and to me,” he muttered 
as he felt so utterly alone in the limitless spaces 
that surrounded him. 


176 Romances of the Rugged Road 

He roused himself, shook off his melancholia, 
coiled his hair rope around his blankets to keep 
out the rattlers, and lay down to look at the stars. 

He made up his mind that as soon as this trip 
was over he would move on to new diggings. The 
free life of the plains was not as free after all, as 
it looked; true, a man was free to run around 
and shout and yell all he had a mind to, but there 
was little in the way of variety, and not the sort 
of excitement that his nature craved, and besides 
he was more restless as more and more his con¬ 
science nagged him for not writing home, and 
over again he promised himself to do this as soon 
as he got near a post-office. 

Gazing at the stars and making good resolu¬ 
tions he fell fast asleep and slept soundly for a 
short time, until he was suddenly awakened by 
the barking of a dog which kept running round 
his bed and setting up a fuss. He thought it 
strange that a dog should be in that place at that 
time of night, and he grew suspicious of his ac¬ 
tions, for it was more than likely that the dog 
was not alone. The dog did not attack him, but 
it kept growling and barking and coming closer 
as it grew bolder. Not liking its actions, and 
having a good gun with him, he shot it. 

While there was no reason for alarm, since 
he did not deem it possible that any one could 
have designs upon him, still he kept a sharp look¬ 
out, and sure enough a little later he discovered 
two men crawling along through the sage towards 
his horses, and it was evident that they either 
had a plan to get him, or to steal the horses, and 
perhaps both. 

The horses were not over fifty yards away, and 


177 


Learning to Live 

the men were quite close to them when he first 
saw them. He was now all alert and ready for 
action, but he pondered in his mind as to what 
was the best thing to do. More than likely he 
could get one of the men from where he lay, but 
there might be several of them in the party, and 
if so no doubt it would go hard with him, should 
they all attack him. By this time they had about 
reached the horses and unless he did something 
very quick they would be gone, and without his 
horses he would be in a desperate plight, so he 
took careful aim and fired. Instantly both men 
dropped out of sight, and then followed a long 
vigil of silence and waiting. 

No doubt they would try and get him if they 
could, and he was determined to do the same for 
them if he got the chance. However, no one ap¬ 
peared and nothing more happened, so he lay on 
one elbow peering into the distance until over¬ 
come by drowsiness he fell asleep. 

When he awoke with a jerk it was daylight, and 
everything was as quiet as the grave. The horses 
were both gathering their breakfast as uncon¬ 
cerned as though nothing had happened, and the 
only evidence that there had been anything un¬ 
usual was the presence of the dead dog which lay 
near the camp. 

Dangity could not understand the strange hap¬ 
penings of the night, nor was he at all certain 
that he was out of danger yet, for there was no 
telling what moment a party might ride up on 
him, and he lost no time in getting his horses 
saddled, stuffing a little breakfast into him and 
getting out of there. 

That there was something back of this affair, 
he felt certain. 


178 Romances of the Rugged Road 


CHAPTER X 
Jemima Decides to Wait 

After Dangity left home it seemed to certain 
inhabitants of the little town that the place had 
become entirely deserted. To his mother it was 
a town which had become so wrapped up in its 
own affairs as to entirely forget the welfare of 
others. For long days she watched anxiously and 
hopefully for a letter from her boy, while the rest 
of the family shared her anxiety, and the little 
brothers and sisters were quite disappointed when 
no word came from him. Every day they had 
gone to the post-office, there to stand on the tip¬ 
toe of expectancy every time the little window 
opened after the arrival of the mail. 

But the months had run into more than a year 
and the answer was always the same, “No mail for 
you today,” and they would turn crestfallen away 
as one would say to the other, “There’s nothing 
today; come on, let’s go home,” when they would 
slide out of the place to return again faithfully 
the next evening. 

The little tads stuck loyally to their task, but 
eventually it became such a hopeless one that they 
gave it up. How much good a letter would have 
done them! 

But if the folks at home were anxious and 
lonesome, there was some one else who was more 
so, and that was Jemima. She had not made 


179 


Jemima Decides to Wait 

much of a fuss over him openly before others, but 
secretly she admired him greatly. It may have 
been only a schoolgirl's fancy, but it was genuine, 
nevertheless, and was much more intense than 
Dangity had half suspected. 

Jemima was a fine-looking girl with beautiful 
black hair and eyes, and besides was a general 
favorite among the younger folks of the town; in 
fact she was the sort of girl of whom any one 
might well be proud. 

Indeed, there were several among the young 
men who had already set their caps for her, so to 
speak, but she had her own notions as to whom 
she liked, and had not taken kindly to their atten¬ 
tions, due no doubt to her secret attachment for 
Dangity, while he, all unconscious of her love for 
him, had never written a line since he left, but 
was all too busy, as we have seen, chasing the 
rainbow of romance around the world, while all 
the time a real one was being painted for him 
right here at home. 

Jemima called on Mrs. Fay, occasionally, and 
always inadvertently the conversation turned 
about the absent one, but neither could furnish 
the other any news. There was a great question 
mark in the mind of each. Where had he gone? 
What had become of him? Was he still alive? 
and so on, the questions followed each other in 
endless round, but always and ever there was no 
answer. Every possible solution ended in mere 
conjecture, and after an afternoon's visit Jemima 
would wend her way home more determined than 
ever to wait and see what the outcome of the 
puzzle would be. 

Her mother could not understand why it was 


180 Romances of the Rugged Road 

that she did not take more strongly to some of 
the boys who were paying her such marked at¬ 
tention, and in fact she began to fear that she 
was becoming timid and backward, although the 
truth was, she was still the life of any group 
which gathered to have a good time. The facts 
being, the phantom of romance had woven its 
mystic spell about her, and she was lost under the 
hypnotic influence of a secret love for one who 
was absent and unheard from. 

As for her father, he was engrossed in the af¬ 
fairs of the bank, of which he was president. It 
was one of those wonderful institutions known 
as a “country bank,” a place which not only 
served as a depository for its patrons’ money, but 
a place where practically all of the financial busi¬ 
ness of the surrounding country was transacted. 
If any one had a cow to sell they posted a notice 
of that on the bulletin board, or if they wanted to 
buy anything of value, from a pig to a farm, they 
posted a notice of that also. Thus the bank be¬ 
came a central meeting-place. 

The gentleman who had been at the head of 
this enterprise for many years was known gen¬ 
erally by his first name, Simon; in fact one rare¬ 
ly ever heard his full name, Simon Junebug, men¬ 
tioned. He was a small, wiry built man, with a 
sharp keen face, and was generally able to tell 
right down to the matter of a few cents, as to 
whether there was any profit in a deal almost as 
soon as it was presented to him—a happy facul¬ 
ty, by the way, for a successful banker. His 
neighbors diagnosed his case by saying that “he 
had a nose for business,” which tersely means 
the same thing. 


181 


Jemima Decides to Wait 

There was very little of any importance that 
transpired in his county that he didn’t know all 
about; in fact, he made it his business as the 
leading financier to do so, and he had a way of 
his own of gathering information. It was claimed 
that the little back office of the bank was a better 
news-gathering station than the office of the local 
paper itself. Often the editor of the town sheet 
found it easier to see Simon and get the news 
than it was to go around and try to gather it up 
himself. 

It went without contradiction that Simon June- 
bug was an ambitious man, and his neighbors 
claimed that his chief aim in life was to get rich; 
but it wasn’t. 

Like lots of other folks, they misjudged his 
motives. His great and consuming ambition was 
to see that his charming daughter, Jemima, mar¬ 
ried wealth. 

To him this represented the acme of success; 
to have his darling daughter well and richly taken 
care of for life seemed to him to be the greatest 
blessing that could come to her. Simon thought 
he knew. His own existence began under very 
penurious circumstances, but step by step, after a 
long life of self-denial and shrewd bargaining, he 
had been able to acquire something of material 
importance, and this was a prize which he con¬ 
sidered was well worthy the struggle necessary 
to obtain it. 

Mrs. Rachel Junebug, his wife, had her mind 
set upon something entirely different. She was 
anxious that their daughter should marry a man 
who was both handsome and brave. Jemima’s 
love of romance was inherited from her mother’s 


182 Romances of the Rugged Road 

side of the house. Her relations had been esv 
plorers, and soldiers and adventurers, but Simon’s 
relations were all folks who had been confined to 
the unromantic task of grinding out a living. 

Money never worried Rachel. Smiling and 
cheerful, her jolly round face and rotund figure 
gave one the impression of a calm, judicious per¬ 
sonage, who might easily be a devotee of the Epi¬ 
curean faith which admonishes us to “eat, drink 
and be merry, for tomorrow we may not be 
able to.” 

One of Simon’s greatest worries was that his 
thoughtless wife’s extravagance would bring 
down his shining pate in poverty to the grave, 
therefore he found it necessary to keep forever 
preaching economy. 

When she suggested a new hat to replace the old 
faded one he had worn now something like eigh¬ 
teen summers, he remonstrated as follows, “My 
soul, woman, that hat is almost as good as the 
day I bought it; what a waste of money to throw 
a good hat like that away!” 

“I wasn’t going to throw it away—not that, 
dear—I had planned to put it in the missionary 
barrel which the women are making up for the 
Eskimos in Alaska,” she smilingly replied. 

“Well, let me wear it a while longer, but just as 
soon as it begin to show signs of wear I’ll let you 
have it,” he consented grudgingly. “Besides, I 
don’t think it’s right to start any foolish ideas in 
the heads of those people, by giving them ex¬ 
pensive things to wear,” he grunted as he brushed 
the old hat off with his coat sleeve, looked him¬ 
self over in the old hall mirror, and went down to 
the office, planning how he could make a few dol- 


183 


Jemima Decides to Wait 

lars’ interest on some new loan. This was one of 
the reasons why Simon had money—he saved it. 

Rachel and he had been able to counterbalance 
the unusual proclivities in each other and thus 
they had been able to live a fairly even-going, well 
regulated existence. 

To neither of these practical people, however, 
did Dangity offer the slightest appeal. The pov¬ 
erty of his family was too well known to make a 
favorable impression on Simon, and to one who 
was looking for an Adonis as Rachel was, he surely 
was not handsome. 

“What! that tall awkward galoot?” Rachel had 
snapped when Jemima had made some favorable 
comment about Dangity, “And afraid of his own 
shadow, too, besides. Why he run from Ted 
Strong like a mollycoddle when Ted pushed him 
off the walk!” So there was no place in their 
calculations for Dangity, he was simply impos¬ 
sible. 

Yet all the time each of them was busy plan¬ 
ning for Jemima. They each had found one or 
two who possessed some of the necessary quali¬ 
fications, but no one they had in mind would ex¬ 
actly measure up to the expectations of both. 

Among those who stood high in Simon’s favor 
was Willie Gold. He was a close-fisted, industri¬ 
ous young fellow, a model of good manners and 
breeding, and besides all this he was heir to his 
father’s estate, which was a large one; but he was 
such a delicate little fellow that Rachel couldn’t 
bear to think of him as a husband for her charm¬ 
ing and buxom daughter. Simon had used every 
artifice he knew of to try and win his wife over in 


184 Romances of the Rugged Road 

favor of Willie, but to all of his pleadings she 
turned a deaf ear. 

“I don’t see what you can see in a little runt 
like that, to think of him as a match for Jemima? 
Why he isn’t as big as you are, and I always said 
I would never allow a daughter of mine to marry 
a man who was smaller than her father,” Rachel 
insisted firmly with a stamp of her foot, and Si¬ 
mon knew when she stamped that foot her mind 
was set, and it was impossible to move her. 

The truth of the matter was she had taken a 
fancy to Ted Strong, who had made quite a record 
in athletics, and day after day she brought home 
to Simon the thought that Ted would make a fine- 
looking husband for some one. 

But Simon couldn’t see it. “Why, sakes alive,” 
he would bark in disgust, “that fellow can’t earn 
his salt. This playin’ ball and loafin’ around don’t 
bring home the bacon.” 

“You must remember that money isn’t every¬ 
thing there is in the world; good health and good 
looks are something that money won’t buy, and 
who would make a finer-looking man than Ted?” 
Rachel would declare in her efforts to advance 
Ted’s cause in the eyes of Simon. 

Thus the days came and went, with Jemima try¬ 
ing to be courteous to both Willie and Ted, with¬ 
out being unduly friendly to either, while all the 
time she was conjuring in her own mind the pic¬ 
ture of her ideal—Dangity. 

In the meantime Jemima had been away from 
home most of the time taking a course in a girls’ 
school in Boston. She came home only for a 
week-end occasionally and during the holidays. 

We must admit that Willie was ambitious. He 


185 


Jemima Decides to Wait 

tried in every way he could to make an impres¬ 
sion on Jemima that would win her to himself. 
He invited her to every function that was worth 
while, and arranged to spend as much time in her 
company as good grace would permit. But Jemi¬ 
ma was evasive. She smiled on him good-natured¬ 
ly, laughed at his jokes and kept up a show 
of interest in his fervent appeals for her to say 
that one little word which would turn the earth 
into a heaven for him, but Jemima didn’t say the 
word. 

Ted was equally as ardent in his attentions, and 
Jemima was not unfriendly to Ted. It suited her 
purpose to have her father and mother divided in 
their admiration for these two worthy gentlemen, 
and it also helped her in her Fabian policy of 
waiting, to keep the aspirations of each fully 
alive. 

When she was alone she exclaimed to herself, 
“If no one is going to rope and catch Dangity 
until he is willing, they’re not going to rope me 
either. I can wait just as long as he can!” 

It is true she had a hard fight, for there are 
always those who insist on breaking down one’s 
good resolutions, no matter what those resolu¬ 
tions may be. Let a man resolve to quit smoking, 
and every last man he meets will invite him to 
have a cigar; or let a girl resolve to give up danc¬ 
ing, and like as not she will be deluged with in¬ 
vitations to such affairs. It was well for Jemima 
that she had a strong, resolute mind of her own, 
and despite every adverse wind that blew she 
calmly held to the even tenor of her way. 

A letter from Dangity would have been a tre¬ 
mendous help at this time, but, as is often the 


186 Romances of the Rugged Road 

case, when help is most needed it is farthest from 
us. It is after one has made a great success of 
life and is beyond the need of help that all the 
Universities in the land insist on heaping honors 
upon him that he doesn’t need and can’t use, but 
when he is struggling for recognition, and a de¬ 
gree or something of that sort would be a life- 
saver to him, no one gives him a pleasant look, 
so to speak. For it is true that “to him that hath 
shall be given, but to him that hath not shall be 
taken away even that which he seemeth to have.” 
So while Simon and Rachel schemed, and Willie 
and Ted courted and worked, Dangity and Jemima 
waited, with neither knowing the mind of the 
other. 



“Fine! Great! Bully for you!” 
(Page 193) 



A Hard Night’s Ride 


187 


CHAPTER XI 
A Hard Night’s Ride 

Despite the loneliness of the way Dangity 
rather enjoyed the ride. Evidences of life were 
rare. Now and then some wild animal would dart 
off through the brush and startle him from his 
reverie. The overshadowing solitude gave ample 
time for thought and meditation. Up to this time 
he had been drifting along he knew not whither. 
This mode of life had required but little effort, 
but he was fast becoming conscious of an over¬ 
whelming sense of dissatisfaction and unrest that 
began to spur him on to something better. He 
wanted to make a greater stir on the calm surface 
of his surroundings. 

If he could do something to put him on the map 
in a large way, strike a gold mine, or get posses¬ 
sion of a good herd of cattle for himself, or accom¬ 
plish something that would really count in the 
world, he felt sure that he would then be satisfied 
with life. Not an unusual ambition, perhaps, but 
one that gave but slight promise of fulfillment at 
this time, to be sure. 

The country in the vicinity of the junction of 
the states of Nevada, California and Oregon is a 
little-known country, but sparsely inhabited; and 
for the most part rough, broken territory, rugged 
towering buttes, rocky bluffs, and a few stretches 


188 Romances of the Rugged Road 

of valley and grazing land, would fairly well de¬ 
scribe it. 

The little trail which he was following wound 
in and out among the hills with little variation. 
Now and then he ran across a few Indians, or occa¬ 
sionally a lone puncher rounding up a few strays 
or moving a bunch of stock to some new pasture. 

The more he thought of his surroundings the 
more determined he w r as to give up his present oc¬ 
cupation as soon as he could and look for some¬ 
thing that had more excitement in it. 

At the close of the third day he came to the 
camp of a band of Indians, and seeing that it was 
getting late he made up his mind to camp there 
for the night. He wasn’t any too sure as to what 
sort of a reception he would receive, but he in¬ 
tended to find out before deciding to stop. As he 
rode up to the edge of camp several of them came 
out to meet him, eyeing him closely to determine 
as to whether he might be a friend or a foe. Hav¬ 
ing satisfied their curiosity on this point, believing 
him to be a friend, they crowded around and gave 
him a cordial welcome, after their manner, mo¬ 
tioning him to get down from his horse and rest. 
“Ugh, hugh, heap tired eh?” grunted one as he 
climbed down from the saddle and showed evi¬ 
dence of being stiff from his long ride. “Heap 
long ride?” he asked, blinking at him out of a pair 
of big, placid eyes. 

“Well, yes, come long way; heap tired is right,” 
he replied with a shake of his head and a grin 
as he sized up the braves who gathered to wel¬ 
come him, and noted how strong and lithe most 
of them were. They had plenty of good-looking 


A Hard Night 9 s Ride 189 

horses, several wigwams, and not a few squaws 
and children with them. 

“How far go?” asked one, pointing in the op¬ 
posite direction from which he had come. “Lookin’ 
for stock; heap big bunch of stock; plenty punch¬ 
ers and big camp,” he managed to explain to them. 
They looked from one to the other in silence and 
he began to wonder whether they were on good 
terms with his outfit or not, but presently one who 
seemed to be the chief spoke up, “One day more 
find stock.” 

“I sure am in luck then, ain’t I?” he chuckled 
as he prepared to unload his pack and make camp 
for the night. The men were very friendly, all 
excepting one who had his arm in a sling, and 
Dangity noticed that he kept in the background, 
and several times he caught him staring at him in 
a sneaky sort of way that made him feel uneasy. 
He connected him with the dead dog of his first 
night’s adventure, and if this was true he knew 
enough about the wily redskin to know that he 
would leave no stone unturned to get revenge. 

The old chief was very jolly, making him feel 
at home with the tribe, and had them stage a lit¬ 
tle celebration in the way of a war-dance for his 
benefit; he even went so far as to offer to let 
him take his pick of the squaws for a wife, and 
there were some buxom-looking ones there too, 
at that. 

“Heap good squaw, make good wife,” he sug¬ 
gested as one of his comely daughters put on a 
fancy dance before the old fellow’s tent. 

“Yes, heap good wife all right, but no got wig¬ 
wam,” Dangity protested. 

“Big chief got plenty wigwam, you stay with 


190 Romances of the Rugged Road 

me,” the chief argued again, hoping to dispose of 
one of his girls to this likely-looking young fellow. 
Dangity had heard of more than one squaw-man 
in that western country, but he was not anxious 
enough to have a wife just then to take her from 
any that he had as yet seen. 

No doubt loafing around with this wandering 
band of aborigines would be an easy and not un¬ 
pleasant way to make a living, especially with a 
nice looking young squaw to carry the water and 
make the fires for him. But he thanked the old 
chief for his generous offer, as best he could, and 
told him that he had a wife waiting for him far 
beyond the big hills, and that he would have to 
travel far down the trail before he found her 
again. This was a greater truth than he half 
suspected. 

He was somewhat distrustful of his compan¬ 
ions, especially the wounded one, so therefore he 
arranged to make his camp close to that of the 
old chief. 

Being very tired, he soon fell asleep, but his rest 
was broken by dreams of white girls and Indian 
girls fighting over him, and once or twice he 
thought that he was being attacked himself, and 
awoke with a start, peering out cautiously into 
the darkness, to find that it was only a dream, 
and lying down to sleep again. 

Next he dreamed that the Indian whom he had 
winged was about to pounce upon him, and he 
awoke in a cold sweat. But all was stillness about 
him, and he was about to turn over for another 
nap when the tiniest sound as if of something 
sliding over the ground arrested his attention, and 
in a moment he was all ears again. 


191 


A Hard Night’s Ride 

True enough, there it was. He could see some¬ 
thing slowly sliding along on the ground right 
near his bed. Slowly, stealthily it slid along like 
a serpent, and as he strained his eyes he opined 
that it was a man sliding along on his belly 
towards him. What should he do? To fire at him 
would arouse the whole camp, and in the excite¬ 
ment he might have a hard time convincing the 
Indians that he wasn’t to blame. To lie there and 
allow the man to creep up on him would be taking 
a great chance, for no doubt the fellow was plan¬ 
ning to knife him in order to prevent any outcry. 
He had a good bowie-knife himself, but that would 
be taking too much of a risk to allow the other 
fellow to get that close to him. 

He decided to allow him to get as close as he 
could without making any noise and then shoot 
him. The Indian crept right up close to him and 
reached out a long arm which he held in the air, 
apparently determining where to place the most 
effective blow, but without moving his body, and 
from under the edge of his blanket Dangity’s 
pistol emitted a muffled puff that was scarcely 
heard ten feet distant, and the Indian’s arm 
dropped with a thud. A pair of gleaming eyes 
made a fairly discernible target on a dark night. 

After the shot he lay perfectly still and not a 
sound broke the silence, not even a breath from 
the man who lay near him. Waiting for several 
minutes he reached out his hand and it came in 
contact with a man’s arm, and running his fingers 
along it he came to the hasp of a long knife which 
was clutched in the warm hand that lay on the 
edge of his blanket. Loosening the fingers he drew 
the knife from them and slid it under his pillow. 


192 Romances of the Rugged Road 

What could he do under the circumstances? 
After racking his brain for a solution of his prob¬ 
lem he decided to put the knife back in the out¬ 
stretched hand, and to let it lie there as mute 
evidence to the chief and the tribe of the evil de¬ 
signs upon his life. 

When daylight came he called at the chief’s 
wigwam and one of the daughters came out to 
see him. He pointed to the dead form upon the 
ground, and she uttered a wild whoop that 
brought the whole camp up standing. They 
crowded around and pointed here and there and 
set up a great pow-wow, pointing first to Dangity 
and then to their own breasts, until finally the 
old chief spoke up and said, “Good man, heap good 
job; him no good, no good, bad Indian, kill white 
man, bad Indian,” and pulling out his gun he sent 
several shots into the dead body of his former 
tribesman. 

The chief was more insistent than ever that 
Dangity become his son-in-law, wishing no doubt 
to have as good a shot as he in the tribe, but, in¬ 
stead, he saddled his horses, and after a meagre 
breakfast he bid good-by to the staring natives, 
waved his hand at the old chief, kissed one of the 
girls who clung to his stirrup and made his way 
up the ravine, still single. 

“Beats all how some one is always trying to 
throw a hitch onto me,” he muttered to himself as 
he rode along, “but I guess I worked out of that 
tangle all right too, although it was a pretty close 
squeak, with the chances of taking a long rest all 
against me. I must either be getting handsome, 
or else I look easy, I don’t know which.” 

The day was drawing to a close when he came 


193 


A Hard Night’s Ride 

on the outfit he was looking for, where he turned 
over his orders to the foreman, who, as soon as he 
had read them, threw his sombrero in the air and 
let a war-whoop out of him that would make an In¬ 
dian blush. 

“Here we are, fellas,” he shouted to the rest of 
the gang who crowded up to see what it was all 
about. “Orders to move out! It's all off now, 
boys, we’re on,” he continued. 

The boys were wild with pleasure, “Fine! 
Great! Bully for you!” came from several at once 
as they shook hands with Dangity, and then 
mounting their ponies rode around in a circle 
shouting and firing their revolvers in the air. 

They had been up here on the range since early 
spring, as lonesome as lost calves, one of them 
said; and now they were to get back to headquar¬ 
ters again. This would mean a round-up, a bunch 
of shippers for market and a chance to see the 
town and the bright lights once more, and a 
chance to take a hand in helping civilization to 
adjust itself to their return. Oh boy! 

Dangity found some of the old gang who were 
with him the year before who were glad to renew 
the acquaintance. Two of them had been with 
him in Reno, and they sat up late into the night 
listening to his stories; joining in a hearty laugh 
over his fight with the lumberjack about the girl; 
and Dangity could laugh now too, although at the 
time he took it so seriously that he never ex¬ 
pected to be able to laugh again, not knowing that 
young hearts heal quickly. 

Although some one has said that these wounds, 
no matter how trivial, do leave a scar, if that is 
true some hearts must be pretty badly marked up, 


194 Romances of the Rugged Road 

for they receive many deep and painful wounds. 
One of France’s famous queens once said when the 
fight was on for Calais, if they were to cut her 
heart open they would find the word “Calais” 
burned into it. 

Next morning they all turned out at break of 
day, anxious to get an early start, and they soon 
broke camp and started out with the stock and 
the camp wagons on the long drive south. The 
stock could not travel as fast as the horses, and 
besides it was necesary to allow them to feed at 
times along the way. 

They met up with other bunches of stock being 
brought in, for the general fall round-up was on, 
when everything in the adjoining teritory were 
to be herded into one big drove and then sorted 
out according to brand. 

It was hard work, this riding all day and then 
taking turns at watching at night, for the stock 
must be kept within bounds. At the end of sev¬ 
eral days’ drive they came onto the main drove 
gathering on the plains ahead of them. When 
they reached it they ran their bunch into it, and 
the whole mass were rounded up into one great 
drove, numbering well into the thousands; one 
ranch alone claiming better than thirty thousand 
head. 

There were scores of men and horses engaged 
in the round-up and interest and excitement ran 
high. After the animals were assembled, the 
next operation was to sort out all of the stock be¬ 
longing to each brand, and then to brand the 
calves belonging to each bunch. Any stock not 
belonging to any of the outfits are known as 
“mavericks” and these are divided among those 


A Hard Night’s Ride ■ 195 

holding the round-up and are then branded with 
the rest of the stock. 

Dangity didn’t like the branding business. 
“Isn’t there some way to mark those blamed 
things without burning them like that ?” he asked 
as he saw them sticking the hot letters onto the 
bawling, squirming critters. 

“Why, that don’t hurt. Good land! them cattle 
never feels it,” a long, slim puncher laughed at 
him. 

“Aw, it must hurt; see how they bawl and 
kick.” 

“Aw, you’re to chicken-hearted; you’d make a 
hot rancher, you would. Let every one put their 
brand on your stock I suppose,” another broke in. 

“Well, there ought to be some other way of 
marking them besides that. There’s one thing 
sure, I’ll be a ‘maverick’ all my life, for no one is 
going to stick their brand onto me. No one owns 
me now, but just as soon as they put their mark 
on me, I’ll belong to some one else,” Dangity 
boasted. In spite of Dangity’s protests the work 
of branding went merrily on. 

When a large bunch of cattle are held together 
on the open range, there is always danger of a 
stampede, should anything happen to start them 
going, and sometimes it is surprising what a little 
thing will do it. A storm, or one ferocious animal 
may start an agitation among the herd that will 
keep spreading until they all get excited and off 
they go on a rampage that his Satanic majesty 
couldn’t stop. 

The first night after the round-up was com¬ 
plete, a storm blew up and the sky became dark 
and lowering. That night the different foremen 


196 Romances of the Rugged Road 

got together and decided to put all hands on 
watch, fearing the stock might break away in 
the night. The storm increased in violence and 
the cattle became more and more restless as the 
night came on, pushing and crowding each other 
as they moved around in a big circle. 

The punchers kept riding around the outside 
of the moving mass of horns, working their quirts 
and shouting at the top of their voices at the more 
obstreperous ones. “You boys keep a good eye on 
these devils,” one of the foremen shouted to a 
bunch of riders, “for if they ever get started, 
there ain’t no power in heaven or earth can ever 
stop them.” 

The storm increased as the hours passed. Ev¬ 
ery few minutes the hills were lighted up by 
great flashes of lightning which leaped from one 
black cloud to another, to be followed almost im¬ 
mediately by deafening roars of thunder, which 
echoed and vibrated among them. 

It was terrifying enough to humans, and what 
must it have been to the thousands of frightened 
animals, who thought only of safety in flight? 

“Looks like a bad night,” Dangity shouted to a 
nearby pal. “Yas, you bet! Looks like we won’t 
hold this bunch much longer if it gets any worse. 
Ever in a stampede before?” he shouted back to 
Dangity. “No-o-pe, never was.” 

“Well, if they git started, whatever you do, 
don’t try to stop ’em. Try ’nd git ahead of ’em 
’nd then ride in a circle, ’nd they’ll follow you, 
maybe,” his vpal instructed him as they rode 
around together trying to hold the frightened 
brutes together. 


197 


A Hard Night’s Ride 

Sometimes the leaders will follow a rider around 
in a circle, but it takes both a good horse and a 
good rider to keep ahead of a fast-moving bunch 
of stock like that, and woe be to both should his 
horse stumble. 

It was somewhere along about midnight when 
a specially loud and continued roll of thunder sent 
the cattle into a wild jam in which they broke 
away from their keepers and started off across 
the prairie like a charge of cavalry. 

The lines broke where Dangity was riding, and, 
remembering the advice of his pal, he put spurs 
to his horse and rode towards what he thought 
to be the head of the runaways, in an effort to 
lead them in a circle. It had grown so dark that 
it was almost impossible to distinguish the dim 
outlines, of the herd, except by the flashes of 
lightning. Occasionally he could hear the shouts 
of other men above the noise of the trampling 
feet and the bellowing of the stock, but he could 
see nothing only as it was revealed to him by the 
flashes. These were so blinding that when they 
were over they left the darkness only more in¬ 
tense. 

But he urged his horse forward with all its 
might, and the trusty pony seemed to know that 
not only his own life, but the life of his master, de¬ 
pended upon his speed and sure-footedness. To 
fall in the path of that mad rushing mob behind 
them meant certain death. 

A flash of lightning revealed to Dangity that a 
man who had been riding near him but a moment 
before had disappeared. What had become of 
him? Had he gone down in the race? 


198 Romances of the Rugged Road 

It seemed to him that he had now succeeded in 
taking the lead of the herd and he began to ride 
in a circle, crouching low in the saddle, all the 
while praying for deliverance. Yes, some men do 
say their prayers in times of danger, and he was 
one of them. He began to feel hopeful of winning 
out in his undertaking and already began to spec¬ 
ulate as to how it would add to his reputation as 
a rider if he should succeed in controlling this 
stampede, and he hoped his horse would hold out. 

But alas, alas, for the best laid plans of mice 
and men, for suddenly a sickening feeling seized 
him as he felt his horse stumble and plunge to 
the ground beneath him, and he was thrown over 
his head, where he piled up in a stunned heap. 

“Stepped in a gopher hole, by thunder!” he 
hissed when he felt him going. Despair almost 
overwhelmed him, but he rallied his wits as if by 
superhuman efforts, and not a moment too soon, 
for the herd was bearing down upon him. 

During his leisure hours, he had practised 
“bull-dogging” and throwing steers, and this ex¬ 
perience now stood him well to the good, in his 
hour of peril. He had barely regained his feet 
when a friendly flash showed to him the lowered 
head and white horns of a big steer making 
straight for him and with consummate skill and 
rare presence of mind he grasped one of those 
horns and swung himself to the steer’s back, like 
an acrobat, and was whisked away in a continua¬ 
tion of his wild ride. 

Where it would end he could not tell, but the 
steer was slowing down under the added weight 
of his rider, and often his legs were squeezed and 


A Hard Night 9 s Ride 199 

jammed as the rest of the herd pressed on past 
them. 

He had stuck to his uncomfortable position for 
some time when he could see during the flashes of 
lightning that the leaders of the herd were drop¬ 
ping out of sight as though they were going over 
a cliff or an embankment, and he made up his 
mind to try and get clear when his steer went over 
the break in their path. 

Fortune favored him, for just as his steer made 
the leap a flash revealed to him the bank, at which 
he threw himself over backwards and crawled 
back out of the way, where he lay under the edge 
of the bank, panting and shivering as he listened 
to the rumble of feet as the whole mass leaped or 
fell over the brink and continued their mad rush. 

As he lay there thinking, he could not help but 
thank God that he had once more been delivered 
from what looked like certain death. True, he 
had not paid much attention to the dispensations 
of Providence, but he could not deny that he owed 
his miraculous ascape to that friendly influence 
which he believed was watching over him. 

There was nothing he could do now, but wait 
for daylight, and the storm to cease. He was 
more contented to do this than he had been for 
some time. It seemed that ever since he left 
home his whole life had been either a storm or a 
rush, and now he was beginning to feel more sat¬ 
isfied to wait and listen. 

This was his first experience in a stampede, 
and, as he afterwards remarked, “that was all the 
experience I wanted, packed into one setting, and, 
believe me, it was no joke either! If any one 
thinks it was, let them try it.” * 


200 Romances of the Rugged Road 

The wind had risen to a gale and the rain came 
down in torrents. The only ill effects he felt from 
his escapade was a sharp pain in his shoulder 
where he struck the ground when he fell from the 
steer. This grew worse rapidly until it became 
almost unbearable. Occasionally the bellow of a 
wounded steer which had broken its leg in the 
fall, broke out upon the night. 

Many an owner has lost his entire herd by hav¬ 
ing them stampede and plunge over a bank, or 
into a lake or river and drown. 

When morning came, what a sight greeted his 
eyes. The ground near where he lay was strewn 
with the remains of dead and wounded stock 
which had been torn and trampled by the sharp 
hoofs of the others as they passed over them in 
the race. None of the men were to be seen any¬ 
where. No doubt those who were alive had rid¬ 
den after the stock to try and round it up again. 

Going back over the route of the stampede he 
found here and there the remains of horses and 
men who had in many cases been trampled out of 
all recognition. Later, those who were in good 
shape gathered in a group and the foreman yelled, 
“Count up there now boys, ’nd see how many 
poor devils is missin\” 

“What about The Dude?” some one shouted. 

“Has any one here seen The Dude?” 

“The last time I seen him he was ridin’ at the 
head uv the bunch,” Slim Jake spoke up. “Ridin’ 
ahead uv that bunch uv hookers? That’s one of 
the darein’est things I ever seen,” the superin¬ 
tendent broke in. 

“Yep, I guess it’s curtains ’nd slow music fer 
The Dude, too,” another sighed hopelessly. 


201 


A Hard Night 9 s Ride 

Dangity surprised them all, however, a little 
later, by coming up on foot from a little ravine, 
when he was given a royal reception. 

Those who were in the party went carefully 
over the ground and gathered up what they could 
find of those who had been less fortunate. The 
remains were then rolled up in blankets, a hole 
dug, and preparations made to commit them to 
the bosom of mother earth. 

“Seems kinda hard to bury them like heathen 
away out here, and no one to even say a prayer 
over them,” Dangity suggested, not knowing what 
further could be done. 

Buck Perkins spoke up and said, “Well, ther’s 
Parson Edd there, maybe he could say a prayer 
or somethin’ like that.” 

They all stood around, hat in hand, and Parson 
Edd, so nicknamed because he abstained from the 
use of profanity, stepped out and said, “It’s a long 
time pards, sence I tried my hand at this, but I’ll 
do the best I can.” Then closing his eyes he said, 
“Good Lord, we're sendin’ you five more souls. 
You know how hard it is to be good. If you c’n, 
Lord, be merciful. Amen.” 

With this crude attempt at a religious cere¬ 
mony, the remains were committed, as tenderly as 
possible, to the earth from which they sprang. 

The balance of the stock was rounded up once 
more and the work of sorting and branding was 
resumed. Dangity had grown very quiet of late. 

“What’s the matter? Goin’ ta die, or some¬ 
thin’?” Slim Jake asked him. 

“I don’t expect to right away, but the sight of 
them fellows certainly makes me feel blue.” 


202 Romances of the Rugged Road 

“We all gotta go sometime, ’nd it don't make 
much difference when." 

“Oh, ’tisn’t so bad to go if you’re ready, but 
when a fellow gets snuffed out like them fellows 
did it ought to make folks think. I don’t pretend 
to be no saint, but I do think a fellow ought to 
be ready,’’ Dangity went on soberly. 

It was only the wash of the wave on the shore, 
however, for when the tide of sentiment had 
ebbed away, he was the same old careless young¬ 
ster again. 

He had the benefit of a good religious training, 
but he enjoyed the liberty of remaining a “ma¬ 
verick,’’ and was not willing to tie himself up to 
what looked like a life of personal sacrifice. 


Dangity Becomes a Miner 


203 


CHAPTER XII 
Dangity Becomes a Miner 

Dangity was growing more restless each day, 
but he stuck to the old ranch until the round-up 
was over and the stock started on its way to 
market. He could have gone back to Reno again, 
but he was afraid to trust himself amid the old 
surroundings and with the old gang. 

He had developed into a good rider, and, more 
than this, he had grown to be a strong, robust 
fellow. More than once his nerve had been test¬ 
ed, until the boys had come to understand that he 
could be counted on to take care of himself, any 
old way they wanted to take him. 

This was some change from the timid gangling 
youth who came out of the East only a few years 
before. 

While the rough, free ways of the men he had 
met held a certain charm for him, he had come to 
realize that much of the halo and the romance 
which had been thrown around their mode of 
living, was largely imaginary; that, as a matter 
of fact, it was a hard, rough life with but little 
of real pleasure attached to it, and most of that 
pleasure one had to make for himself. 

When on the range the men were quite decent 
and sociable, but as soon as they got to town and 
were turned loose like a bunch of young colts, so 


204 Romances of the Rugged Road 

to speak, they generally went in for a jamboree 
with all the trimmings. 

“What’s the matter Kid? Don’t you like the 
place?” Buck asked when he intimated that he 
might leave soon. 

“Oh yes, I sort of like the way you treat me 
here, but I want to see the rest of the world be¬ 
fore I die.” 

“That’s right, Kid, now’s the time fer that,” 
Buck replied. “You’re the kind of a kid’ll git 
along anywhere; you mind your own business, 
and you’re not afraid of killin’ yourself if you 
have to tear in and work a little.” 

“I’ve always calculated to do my share,” he ad¬ 
mitted meekly. 

“That’s what I mean, you ain’t no loafer, ’nd 
if you ever want to stretch your feet under our 
table again, we’ll be mighty glad ta hev you do 
it.” 

He had often watched the long line of hills as 
they reared their snow-capped peaks in the air, 
and he wanted to find out what lay beyond them. 

“It was a weary life out on the plains, 

In the burning sun and the blinding rains, 

With never the cheer or the merry hum, 

Of a friendly voice a sayin’ ‘come,’ 

As he rambled in at the set of sun, 

From a long and hungry hard day’s run.” 

California had been calling him lately. He re¬ 
sisted the call for a time, but one bright morning 
in the late fall he rode out of the old coral with a 
draft on a bank in Alturas for his summer’s work. 

“Ga ’by, Dude, take keer o’ yourself,” one after 
another of the bunch hollered after him as he 


205 


Dangity Becomes a Miner 

waved his hand toward where they had gathered 
at the ranch-house door to see him off. “It’ll be 
a long time afore ya strike a place as good as this 
’un,” Long A1 shouted after him. 

“I’ll take my chances,” he shot back over his 
shoulder as he touched up his horse with the 
rowel, and struck out to follow the will-o’-the-wisp 
once more. The spirit of adventure was strong 
in him and it was impossible for him to settle 
down to anything permanent, as yet. 

A couple of days later he came onto a cabin on 
the bank of a small stream, and a little farther up 
it he came to where two men were washing out 
gravel from its bed. “Hello there!” he shouted, 
whereupon the two men looked at him in a sur¬ 
prised way, as if trying to place him. 

“Well, I’ll be jiggered, if it ain’t the Kid,” the 
taller of the two men exclaimed. “Where in tar¬ 
nation you ben all this time?” they both yelled 
at him together. “Ranchin’,” said Dangity rein¬ 
ing in his horse and leaning over the horn of the 
saddle. 

“My gosh, boy, but you’re a sight fer sore eyes. 
Where in time’ve you ben, ’nd where do you think 
you’re goin’ anyhow?” they plied him with ques¬ 
tions. 

“Thought about goin’ to Alturas, but I had no 
idea of meetin’ you fellas here,” Dangity vowed 
as he surveyed the outfit. 

These were none other than the two prospectors 
who had jumped from the coach and disappeared 
in the woods, and there was no question as to the 
great pleasure he felt in finding them both, alive 
and well. 

“What do you fellas think you’re doing here, 


206 Romances of the Rugged Road 

anyhow?” Dangity broke in abruptly. “Doin’? 
We’re a lookin’ fer the yaller stuff. What’d think 
we wuz doin’, makin’ mud pies?” the shorter man 
blustered, at which sally they all broke into a 
hearty laugh. 

Findin’ anythin’ worth while?” 

“0—h, nuthin’ ta brag about,” one of them 
replied. 

They both invited him to stop and try his luck 
with them, and as they were both hard-working 
fellows and he liked their looks, he concluded to 
do that very thing. This was really what he had 
been wanting to do for a long time, so here looked 
like a chance to try out the prospecting game, and 
just as soon as they could fix up a working agree¬ 
ment regarding the spoils, if there were any, he 
was ready to turn in and become a miner. 

In many of his day-dreams back there in front 
of the hotel, he had often dreamed of going into 
the hills and striking it rich, and then endowing 
all sorts of benevolent institutions, or, better still, 
of helping needy and worthy individuals who 
might be overlooked by any general scheme of 
charity. 

Who hasn’t had day-dreams? Who hasn’t done 
a little quiet romancing? Too often we find that 
after we have taken out enough from our accu¬ 
mulations to exist on, there isn’t much left for the 
other fellow. 

“If I could only strike a gold mine, or inherit 
a stack of money, or make a good turn some¬ 
where,” he had often mused to himself, even as 
you and I. How pleasant are the enchanting 
dreams of youth! 

Of course there were misgivings as to whether 


207 


Dangity Becomes a Miner 

he was making the right move or not; one often 
passes by the right place to look for a better one. 
The next berry-bush was always the best. But as 
the Good Book says, “Who can tell which shall 
prosper, either this or that?” Who knows where 
fortune waits our coming? 

The upshot of the meeting was that Dangity 
tethered his horse in the little glen back of the 
cabin, and turned in with pick and shovel to try 
his luck in the creek bottoms with the two pro¬ 
spectors. 

“I want to tell you, boys, I don’t know any more 
about this game than an old maid does about 
raisin’ a baby,” he admitted to his partners as he 
started in to tear up the ground. 

“Well, I know some as is mighty willin’ ta 
learn,” ejaculated the taller of the two men, who 
was known as “Nuggets.” 

“You’ll find the main thing about this job is 
hard work,” put in the short man who had been 
addressed as “Frisco,” by his partner. “The fact 
is you want to be strong in tha back and weak in 
tha head, to make a good prospector,” he con¬ 
tinued a moment later, swinging his pick into the 
hard ground with renewed vigor. 

Dangity thought Frisco was right when at the 
end of the second day he was conscious of a lot 
of muscles he never knew he had before, as he 
sat around stiff and sore in front of the little 
cabin. 

“What became of the other fellows who were 
in the coach?” Dangity asked as they sat and 
talked one evening after supper. 

“Why, we peeked around and watched them 
shoot the gambler, and, next mornin’ the posse 


208 Romances of the Rugged Road 

picked up the coach ’nd the fat guy and took 
them all with them, but the fellas who done the 
shootin’ got away,” Nuggets informed him. 

“I wonder what become of the girl?” Frisco ask¬ 
ed Dangity, at which he blushed and said that 
he had taken care of her himself. 

“Well done for you! We knowed that you was 
sweet on the girl; we both said so many a time,” 
Frisco exclaimed, slapping his knee with his heavy 
hand. 

“Wonder ta me you ’nd her didn’t git married 
after that,” Nuggets went on, winking at his 
partner. 

“I guess we could have, she seemed to be* will¬ 
ing enough,” Dangity assured them, “but I wasn’t 
ready for the halter just yet, you know.” 

“You’re a wise kid ta keep clear uv the women,” 
Frisco sighed. 

Dangity tore into his new job with so much 
vim that his partners found it necessary to hold 
him back a little. “What’s your hurry, boy? You 
don’t figure on makin’ a strike today, do ya?” 
Nuggets asked him one morning as he flew at the 
pile of gravel like a bull-dog at a cat. 

“I don’t know. You never can tell, A fellow 
might strike it rich any time,” he replied cheer¬ 
fully, working away steadily. 

“Yes, he might, but ’taint very likely he will,” 
Nuggets came back with a heavy sigh. 

“What—you ain’t gittin’ discouraged, are ya?” 
Frisco piped up in evident surprise. “No-o, not 
exactly, but it does look like we oughta strike 
somethin’ worth while pritty soon, doesn’t it?” 

“I say let’s keep on pluggin’ anyhow, we’ll strike 


209 


Dangity Becomes a Miner 

it some day,” Frisco suggested as he stopped to 
watch Dangity work, and noted his enthusiasm. 

The facts of the matter were, they had barely 
made a living and at times they were quite dis¬ 
couraged, and one of the reasons they were so 
anxious to get Dangity in with them was because 
they thought he would put new life into the work. 
So he worked and dreamed on. He was enjoying 
the anticipation of wealth, almost as much as 
though he really possessed it. 

There is an old Arab proverb which says, “It 
is the contest and not the reward which gives the 
joy.” This may be true, but on the other hand 
it is also true that “hope deferred maketh the 
heart sick.” 

“We jist git enough out o’ this pesky thing to 
keep us from givin’ up, but not enough to make 
any money at it,” Nuggets said disconsolately 
one evening a little later when they were dis¬ 
cussing the possibilities of the claim. 

When Dangity had been there about three 
weeks, he took a little sack of their earnings into 
Alturas to have it weighed and also to purchase 
a few things they needed. The banker was very 
anxious to find out where he had gotten it, but 
he was wise enough not to give him any informa¬ 
tion regarding their location. 

They plugged away, and worked and sweat, 
until near Christmas time, without any better re¬ 
sults, until the other two were for abandoning 
the claim; but Dangity persuaded them to stick 
to it a few weeks longer, and if nothing was 
struck he was willing to give it up as a bad job, 
and forget about it. 

It was tantalizing to have what might be riches 


210 Romances of the Rugged Road 

within their grasp, and yet not be able to quite 
determine their value. They had gradually 
worked up stream to a place where the water had 
changed its course, and had left several acres of 
old bottoms, which lay quite smooth and level. 

This is just the sort of ground where the best 
dirt is often found. The river in flood periods 
carries down sand and gravel from the mountains; 
and this is slowly deposited in the river-bed until 
it fills it up and compels it to cut a new channel. 
These old courses often contain rich grains of 
gold which settle to the bottom and are generally 
found by stripping back the surface gravel and 
then treating the lower strata to extract the gold. 

They had not worked long in the new ground 
until the returns began to increase. This gave 
them new hope so that they doubled their efforts 
in the hope of making a strike. 

“Didn’t I tell you fellows we’d strike it if we 
kept on?” Dangity remarked one night when the 
day’s return had been exceptionally good. 

“That’s right, Kid, you did urge us ta stick. 
You must be a prophet,” Frisco admitted, rolling 
the precious dust in his hands. 

“No, I’m no prophet, but I don’t mind taking a 
profit.” They all laughed heartily at the attempt 
to be funny. 

The new strike continued to prove richer each 
day, and soon their accumulations increased to 
a large amount. 

“What in time are we goin’ ta do with all this 
stuff?” Nuggets gasped one evening when he saw 
how much they had gathered. “Guess we better 
hide that stuff somewheres,” Frisco warned, and 
Dangity backed him up with a “no, sir; it won’t 


Dangity Becomes a Miner 211 

do to take any chances of losin’ that now, we 
worked so hard to get it.” 

After a consultation they decided to scoop out 
a hole under the floor of the cabin and make that 
their safety-deposit vault, which they did, feeling 
that they must take no chances of losing the 
precious stuff, considering all the labor it had cost 
them to get it. 

In six months they had taken out so much gold 
that they became uneasy lest some one should 
make a raid on them, so Dangity rode into town 
and bought a new set of firearms all around. 

“Looks like we had something substantial in 
the way of protection now, boys,” Nuggets ex¬ 
claimed when he saw the display of artillery which 
Dangity spread out before them. 

On the last trip to town, Dangity discovered 
that he was being trailed as he returned to camp, 
but by doubling back and taking a circuitous route 
he was able to throw his pursuer off the track. 

“Reckon we better git busy ’nd git this junk 
outa here before some one robs us,” Frisco ex¬ 
claimed when Dangity had finished his story. 

“That’s true, but what can we do with it? If 
we take it to the bank it will cause a stampede 
in here like the stampede of them cattle, if people 
find us out,” Dangity replied seriously. 

“Yes, but ’taint safe to keep all that stuff 
around here, we’ll lose it sure if we do,” Frisco 
persisted. 

Nuggets spoke up and said, “Let’s get another 
horse and saddle and then you two fellas can 
take a load of this stuff ta town, while I stay here 
and look after what’s left.” 

In a few days Dangity came back with another 


212 Romances of the Rugged Road 

outfit, and he and Frisco took a large part of what 
was on hand and placed it securely in the bank 
in Alturas. 

A few days later Dangity surprised his part¬ 
ners by exclaiming, “Well, boys, I guess the jig 
is up, I think we’ve been discovered!” 

“What’s the matter? Seen anybuddy?” Nug¬ 
gets inquired. “Yes, I saw two men snoopin’ 
around here near our cabin just now,” he added. 

“Let ’em come, we’re ready for ’em. They’ll 
git a warm reception if they try any monkey busi¬ 
ness ’round us, you bet,” Frisco spoke up eagerly. 

“Yas, you bet; they better keep clear o’ me too, 
or I’ll make a sieve out uv their breastworks in a 
hurry,” Nuggets asserted, in keeping with the 
threat of Frisco. 

After this it was necessary to leave one man 
at the cabin all the time to guard the treasure, 
but the ground became so rich that their bank 
was soon filled again. Dangity was living in the 
seventh heaven these days. He could hardly keep 
from shouting, when he saw that all the hopes 
and aspirations of his life were about to be real¬ 
ized. He lived in a delirium of dreams trying to 
picture all of the things he would do when he 
got through with the claim. 

He was soon to be forced to defend his posses¬ 
sions to the limit, and to prove that all that a 
man hath will he give for his life—sometimes. 

Not long after this, he was aroused one night 
by the sound of some one trying to pry open the 
window of the cabin. He dug his elbow into Fris¬ 
co, his sleeping partner, and whispered, “Sounds 
like some one tryin’ to break in—listen—.” 


Dangity Becomes a Miner 213 

They listened breathlessly a few moments, and 
sure enough there was no mistaking that sound. 
Some one was trying to pry back the sliding win¬ 
dow. 

Without saying a word, Frisco pulled a gun 
from under his head and took a shot at the win¬ 
dow. The report startled Nuggets, who sprang 
from his bunk like a frightened deer and wheezed 
in a rasping voice, “What in thunder was that? 
Did any of you fellas shoot? What’s the matter 
anyhow?” 

“Somebuddy tryin’ ta break in,” Frisco whis¬ 
pered, following which they all got into such 
clothes as were handy and grabbed their comple¬ 
ment of arms, an array that was both ample and 
formidable. 

Minutes passed with not a sound to disturb the 
stillness of the night, and then of a sudden there 
came a fusillade of rifle shots which penetrated 
the walls of the cabin and rattled on the roof. 
Fortunately, however, no one in the cabin was 
hit, for they threw themselves flat on the floor 
at once in order to make as small a target as 
possible, and thus escaped. 

“Must be a bunch o’ them snakes judgin’ by the 
shootin’,” Nuggets whispered. “Yes, curse their 
skins, ’nd they mean business too. Let’s lay low 
’nd save our ammunition,” Dangity suggested 
hoarsely. 

“I’ll tell ya what! Let’s agree ta stick till we 
die, boys,” Frisco mumbled in an undertone, to 
which the other two agreed. 

“All right, ’nd the ones that’s left takes all the 
gold,” Dangity added, to which the other two con¬ 
sented and thus the little Triumvirate was formed 


214 Romances of the Rugged Road 

in the face of death. The attacking party fired 
several rounds and then lapsed into silence. The 
men in the cabin grew uneasy. The suspense of 
silence was more terrible than the danger of ac¬ 
tion. 

Nuggets at last crawled to the window and slid 
it back gently, peering out into the darkness, but 
he could see nothing. 

They were at a loss to know what to do, but 
finally Dangity offered to crawl out along the side 
of the cabin and try and find out what was going 
on, for it might be that the attackers were pre¬ 
paring to slide up on the blind side of the cabin 
and set fire to it. 

“They’ll git ya sure if ya try anythin’ like that,” 
Nuggets warned. “Well, I don’t propose to lay 
here and let them burn us alive,” Dangity coun¬ 
tered with a show of spirit. “Well, all I can say 
is the holy saints preserve ya, fer you’re takin’ 
yer life in yer hand by goin’ out there tonight,” 
Nuggets gasped. 

Grasping his trusty rifle he cautiously opened 
the door, and crawled out and along the side of 
the cabin until he came to where he could get a 
view of the surrounding country. That is, he 
could make out the dim outlines of the hills and 
trees against the sky, but below the horizon all 
was still dark. 

As he lay there waiting developments he got to 
thinking how strange it was that he was always 
getting into trouble. 

“I haven’t been looking for trouble, either, but 
it seems that just as soon as a man gets some¬ 
thing worth while some one else wants to take 
it away from him, but they’re not going to get 


Dangity Becomes a Miner 215 

what I have unless they kill me first,” he growled 
between his teeth. 

He was still talking to himself when he dis¬ 
covered a man darting through the trees trying 
to sneak up on the cabin with a bunch of burning 
pitch, evidently meaning to apply the torch to 
the rear of it, in which there were no windows. 

In dodging about he exposed himself for a 
moment, but that moment was fatal, for a well 
aimed shot from Dangity brought him low. The 
flame flickered for a moment and then went out, 
as the man's life no doubt went out with it, and 
then all was darkness again. 

The marauders fired another fusillade at the 
cabin, when all was silence for a while. Dangity 
continued his vigil, peering into the intense dark¬ 
ness, imagining every moment he could see or 
hear some one about to pounce upon him, not a 
very cheerful feeling, we must own. And then 
the unexpected happened. The moon, which had 
been securely hidden under a bank of black clouds, 
suddenly popped into view, and its light revealed 
the outlines of three men who were slowly crawl¬ 
ing towards the cabin. Dangity hugged the earth 
closely while his breath came in quickened spasms 
as he watched the movements of the enemy. For¬ 
tunately he was hidden by the shadow of the cabin 
while it left his opponents in the open. 

He decided that the best thing to do was to re¬ 
duce the numbers of his foes as rapidly as pos¬ 
sible, so he took careful aim and fired, putting 
one of them out of action. The other two jumped 
to cover and opened fire on the cabin, but Dangity 
was hidden in a depression in the ground so that 
their bullets passed over him. The moon disap- 


216 Romances of the Rugged Road 

peared as suddenly as it had appeared and all 
was darkness again. The last fusillade had 
wounded Frisco, for Dangity heard him yelp with 
pain. His groans indicated that he was severely 
wounded. He could hear Nuggets trying to cheer 
him up. How easily it might have been himself 
instead! 

The time passed slowly for Dangity, who lay 
straining his eyes, not knowing at what moment 
some one would leap at him out of the darkness, 
or a bullet would send him “west. ,, He could do 
better work out here than he could inside, but the 
risk was much greater. 

Was ever a night so long? The hours dragged 
their leaden feet across the black expanse of night. 
Any moment might wind up the little spool of life 
for him, and he realized as he faced the future 
that there were many things he had left undone, 
and, for one thing, he vowed once more to get in 
touch with the folks at home and help them, as 
soon as he could get near a post-office. 

Day had just begun to dawn when several men 
leaped from the surrounding rocks and bushes 
and tried to rush the cabin. Dangity dropped 
one of them as they closed in upon him intending 
to put him out of business. 

It was a great fight in which many shots were 
exchanged, one of them hitting Dangity in the 
arm, crippling him on one side, but he was able 
to knock another ruffian over, before he and the 
remaining one who had been pitted against him 
came to grips and fell to the ground cursing and 
struggling, in an effort to batter each other over 
the head with the butts of their revolvers. The 
robber was older and more experienced than Dan- 


217 


Dangity Becomes a Miner 

gity, but his work in the mine had made him 
hard and fit, so that he was an able match for his 
opponent. 

They both knew that it meant life or death, and 
each was determined to sell his life as dearly as 
possible. Dangity was losing considerable blood 
and he realized that he must win soon, if at all. 
Several times he had been on the point of wielding 
an effective blow, but each time his opponent par¬ 
ried it. 

His strength was slipping rapidly. The other 
fellow offered to let him go if he would surrender 
his claim and quit camp, but he was determined 
not to yield. True, life was sweet, but the stakes 
were too large to allow him to give up. He faced 
the question of losing his money or his life, and 
probably both. He finally got a grip on his op¬ 
ponent’s throat, and in a moment he felt his grasp 
weaken, so he increased the pressure. 

“You dirty snake, I’ll soon have you where I 
want you,” he hissed, “or I’ll choke the daylights 
out of you ’til I do!” 

When all resistance had ceased he gave the fel¬ 
low a rap on the head with his gun to be sure that 
he would lie still for a while, wrapped a bandage 
made of a handkerchief around his arm and 
rushed to the aid of his pals, who had been also 
putting up a hard fight against those who had 
separated to oppose them. 

The two pals in the cabin did their best, but 
Frisco was practically helpless and Nuggets had 
emptied his gun, so that when the door was beaten 
down, two men jumped into it but Nuggets 
knocked one of them over and then he and the 
other fellow came to grips. 


218 Romances of the Rugged Road 

It was lucky for him that Dangity came to his 
rescue when he did, for old Nuggets was about 
all in. As Dangity leaped in at the door he 
shouted, “It’s me, boys; don’t shoot! Where are 
you, Nuggets?” 

“Come on Kid ’nd git this brute, or he’ll git 
me if you don’t,” Nuggets cried at hearing his 
voice. It was still so dark in the cabin that he 
could barely see the wriggling bodies rolling about 
the cabin floor, but he made out the robber and 
with one yank he hauled him off of Nuggets and 
gave him a whack over the head that put him to 
sleep. 

Nuggets wanted to kill the fellow outright, but 
Dangity cried, “There’s been enough killin’ here 
tonight; let’s tie them up and take a look at them 
first!” As soon as this was done the two men 
clasped hands. 

Thank goodness we got out of that scrape all 
right,” Dangity gasped. “Yes, but it sure was a 
close call,” Nuggets panted. Together they rushed 
into the cabin, calling to Frisco, but he was now 
past help, and soon passed on without a chance 
to enjoy his riches. 

It was some time before Dangity and his part¬ 
ner recovered from the strain of that night’s ex¬ 
perience, and the memory of it had sufficiently 
passed to allow them to regain their usual com¬ 
posure. It had been a nerve-racking as well as a 
physical strain, the like of which neither of them 
had suffered before. 

When the day came, one of the newest arrivals 
rode to the nearest settlement and notified the 
sheriff that a riot was in progress. A posse was 


Dangity Becomes a Miner 219 

Soon organized to ride back with him, arriving in 
camp late in the afternoon. 

The leader lost no time in rounding up the 
wounded, in taking care of Dangity’s wound, and 
in burying the dead, and arranging to take the 
whole party into Alturas. There were some sur¬ 
prised people when the identity of some members 
of the band were revealed. Among them was 
one of the employees of the bank where Dangity 
had made the deposits. Perhaps he was dissatis¬ 
fied with the slow method of robbing people by 
overcharges and unfair interest rates, and thus 
sought a more rapid way of acquiring wealth. He 
paid for his folly with his life, like a fool. 

Dangity and Nuggets accompanied the posse 
into Alturas, taking the remainder of their gold, 
where it was deposited to their credit with the 
rest of their treasure. In accordance with the 
hasty agreement of the night previous, Frisco’s 
share went to the two remaining partners. 

“My glory, if that wasn’t the awfullest mess I 
ever see,” an old man, one of the members of the 
posse, who had spent years in the hills, remarked. 

“Yes,” chimed in another who answered to the 
name of Rattlesnake Pete, “there sure was some 
fight there all right; them fellers must hev a heap 
o’ gold ta put up an onnery fight like that for it. 
I’m goin’ ta stake me a claim there afore another 
sundown, you bet yer boots.” 

“That’s it, gold! Gold’s the stuff! Men will 
wade through hell ’nd high water fer gold,” the 
sheriff chipped in. 

The three wounded bandits were patched up and 
thrown into the calaboose to await trial, while 


220 Romances of the Rugged Road 

Dangity and his partner went to a doctor to get 
fixed up. 

Nuggets was badly battered up; and as for Dan- 
gity’s arm, it was in bad shape. The bone had 
been shattered by the bullet somewhat, and he 
had lost a quantity of blood in addition, besides 
divers bruises and black marks here and there. 

After the medical ordeal was over, they invited 
the whole party who accompanied them over to 
the “Silver Duck” saloon, where a big feed was 
spread for all hands. The only cloud that over¬ 
shadowed them was the sorrow they felt at the 
loss of Frisco, their trusted partner and chum. 
However, this was not allowed to dampen the 
ardor of those who sat in on the feed, and strong 
men shook their hands, praising them for the gal¬ 
lant fight they had waged, while the less fortunate 
stood around open-mouthed and joined in a laugh 
whenever they could, wondering at the marvelous 
tales they heard of the great strike that had been 
unearthed in the hills. 

When the news of this swept over the town, 
there was a mad rush to take up claims, and the 
whole surrounding country made a stampede for 
the new diggings. 

While the excitement was on, the lucky prospec¬ 
tors had no trouble in disposing of their claims 
to powerful interests at a fancy price. This, with 
what they had previously taken out, was enough 
to put the two partners on easy street for life, 
and to place them far beyond their wildest dreams 
above the realm of avarice. 

It was not until the final deal was made which 
placed a huge stock of the coin of the realm over 
against his name on the ledgers of the bank, and 


221 


Dangity Becomes a Miner 

there was now no danger of a roorback, that Dan¬ 
gity at last gave way to his pent-up feelings, by 
throwing his old hat into the air and jumping on 
it when it fell with a shout like a Piute Indian, a 
celebration to which he was certainly entitled, 
when one considers what he had gone through. 
With a knowing wink he informed his auditors 
who were helping him to celebrate, “It is better 
to be born lucky than rich, or handsome,” then 
with a little more seriousness he added, “Thank 
God, boys, the fight is over. I won’t have to 
work, nor worry any more—that fear is gone. 
I'm glad I made the grade, and thankful I pulled 
up that day on Gambler’s Creek. Time and chance 
happens to all, you bet.” 



222 Romances of the Rugged Road 


CHAPTER XIII 
Money Makes Friends 

At first it was hard for Dangity to realize that 
it was himself who was rich, and not some fellow 
he was dreaming about. The transition from 
poverty to wealth had been altogether too rapid 
for him to adjust his thinking to meet the changed 
conditions under which he had arrived. Many 
times he was forced to reassure himself by say¬ 
ing, “Just think of it! Why, I’m rich! Rich 
beyond the shadow of a doubt! I must be, be¬ 
cause I’ve actually got the receipt for the money, 
and there it is,” he would add, pulling out his 
credit balances from the different banks, to look 
at them. 

“Who in the world would ever think that I 
would have all this money? I can do anything I 
like. Go anywhere I please, and buy anything 
I take a notion to. If this is a dream I hope I 
never wake up!” These and many kindred 
thoughts chased each other through his mind. 

As he walked up and down the streets of the 
little town he was a regular Santa Claus to any 
who happened to look as though they needed help. 
Every old rounder along the line had his mitt out 
to him, and no one ever drew it back empty if he 
had anything on him at the time. 

He was in a quandary to know what to do. Here 


223 


Money Makes Friends 

he was, young and handsome, and as rich as a 
south-sea pirate. His arm was still troublesome, 
so he decided to stick around Alturas until it got 
a little stronger. Friends began to swarm around 
him like flies around a honey-pot in June. Every 
one had a good word for him now. When a man 
is rich it is wonderful how his virtues are extolled 
and magnified, though he may be as loathsome as 
a leper, but if he is poor, even though he have 
the talents of a genius, it is often hard to find 
friends enough to bury him. 

Dangity soon began to experience both the 
pleasures and the dangers of wealth. The deluge 
of praise was in danger of turning his head. In 
fact he plunged recklessly into all the wild gayety 
of the town, until it was not long before he was 
known as the best little spender from Knob Hill to 
Sour Dough Alley. Liberal to a fault—generous 
beyond measure; there was no lack of those who 
were willing to help him get rid of his loose 
change, and everything else he had. 

Although he kept clear of booze, the dance- 
halls, gambling-houses and cafes found him a 
regular and profitable customer. He spent money 
so freely that he was becoming a noted character 
about the town. 

After being there several weeks and his arm 
had entirely healed, he was in one of the big 
dance-halls one night where a large crowd had 
gathered, and, wishing to show himself a good 
fellow, he invited every one up to have something 
on him. When he laid the money for the round 
down on the bar, the bartender, a big burly bear, 
swept the whole thing into the till without offer¬ 
ing him back any change. 


224 Romances of the Rugged Road 

It seems strange, but it is a fact just the same, 
that a man who will give away thousands of 
dollars will fight, as old Nick Connors says, “a 
pac’l o’ wildcats,” if he thinks he is being held 
out on for a nickel of change, if he feels just 
right, and Dangity was in fine fettle tonight. 

Fixing his eyes on the bartender with a mean¬ 
ingful stare, he said, “Say, Bo, I got some change 
cornin’ here, haven’t I?” 

“Aw go on, you milkeater, wat’s bitin’ you 
now,” the fellow barked with a sneer. “Just this, 
you baby robber you,” Dangity shot back with a 
firm ring in his voice, “I want that change ’nd 
I want it quick, too.” 

The old bartender stopped short with his work 
and scowled at Dangity. It was a long day since 
anyone had shown the temerity to talk to him 
like that, so he leaned over the bar and said, “Say, 
Kid, I’ll see you in Paduch before you ever git 
any change outa me. Do ya git that, you white- 
livered four-flusher, you?” 

Dangity’s friends tried to drag him away when 
they saw the turn of affairs, for the man behind 
the counter had the reputation of being the bully 
of the town, and a general all-round bad actor, 
but this was not unknown to Dangity for he had 
watched this same bird short-change and bully 
others. 

“Come on, Kid, that fellow’ll eat you alive,” his 
friends urged as they pulled at his arm. “No, he 
won’t do nothing of the kind,” Dangity snorted 
back. “I’ll get what’s coming to me or I’ll bust 
that stiff’s jaw before I leave.” 

“You’ll bust my jaw, eh?” the bartender roared, 


225 


Money Makes Friends 

“ycm dough-faced boob you, I’ll show you whose 
jaw’ll be busted,” at the same time coming around 
the end of the bar to get at Dangity. He was 
kept employed at this place as the official bouncer, 
and so far no one had been able to face him. 

Most men who knew him would have started for 
the door when he started around that counter, 
but not so with Dangity. “I never run from a 
bully in my life, and I’m not going to start in 
now,” he boasted to his friends, as he went to¬ 
wards the end of the bar to meet the champion— 
a statement which was not quite true, when we 
remember Ted Strong. 

Now, Dangity was no boxer; that is, he never 
worked out in a gymnasium, nor took any lessons 
in the art of self-defence, but he was young and 
strong, and had a natural bent towards the manly 
art. 

The bouncer took him for some egotistical 
greenhorn who had something coming to him, so 
he started in to give him the needed instruction. 
He began with a lunge at Dangity, who side-step¬ 
ped and escaped him. This rather unsettled him, 
but he came back with another which barely 
grazed his shoulder as he ducked to avoid it. He 
wheeled and made another wicked lunge at Dan¬ 
gity, who stood his ground and met him with a 
hard full-arm swing to the jaw that sent the big 
fellow reeling to the floor with a crash. It was 
as much of a surprise to Dangity as it was to the 
spectators, and the bouncer himself, but those 
hard days on the range and in the mine had put 
real steam into his blows. 

“Holy rattlesnakes!” yelled Snapper Smith, 
who had been an onlooker at scores of such bouts 


226 Romances of the Rugged Road 

at the White Wolf, “did you fellas see that left 
though?” 

“Oh mama, what an awful crack!” another 
shouted, as the old bouncer rose tremblingly to his 
feet, held out his hand to Dangity and cried, “Put 
’er there old Pard! You’re the first man that ever 
give me what I deserved. If the boss had of seen 
that punch he’d a give ya my job right away.” 

“I don’t want your job, I ain’t mean enough for 
that,” Dangity replied as he took his hand, still 
thinking of the way he had cursed him, while he 
continued with a note of authority that carried 
respect to the ears of his hearers, “You just give 
me my change now, and we’ll call it square.” 

“Why sure, Pard, sure thing,” the bouncer ac¬ 
quiesced, going behind the bar and handing out 
the change. 

“Have a drink on me, boys; I reckon the drinks 
is on me after that,” he blustered around, dishing 
out the refreshments. 

The gang took all he had to offer, but Dangity 
took a cigar and went out and home to his little 
room. 

He was pointed out now as the Kid who put 
away the biggest bully in town, and nothing was 
too good for him after that. 

Among the friends he had made was a young 
fellow who went by the name of Brick, a lively 
young boy who was a ringleader in all the sports 
of the place. 

His father had been killed in a hold-up a couple 
of years previous, and he lived at home with his 
mother and sister. They occupied a little cottage 
on the outskirts of town, and Dangity grew to 


Money Makes Friends 227 

spending as much time at Brick’s house as he did 
at the hotel. 

At first he came because he knew Brick, but 
later he got acquainted with Rosebud, Brick’s 
sister, and he soon transferred a large part of his 
affection to her. Brick worked for the man who 
owned the Red Eagle cafe. The owner of said 
cafe likewise had a tender regard for Rosebud, 
a fact which Dangity learned before he had known 
Rosebud a week. 

Fate strange and persistent seemed to be pur¬ 
suing him. Try as he would to prevent it—that 
is, he said he was trying—he was constantly be¬ 
ing thrown into contact with young, beautiful and 
talented women, who seemed in every case to 
pick on him as an object of their admiration and 
affection. 

It was so in the case of Rosebud. They had 
only met a few times when they began to seek 
each other’s company; it seemed to be the natural 
thing to do. 

If there were not some powerful magnetism 
which drew human beings together, there is a 
danger that society itself would disintegrate and 
fall asunder. In their case magnetism was aug¬ 
mented by admiration, the admiration of a strong 
young man for a vivacious girl and vice versa. 

But Dangity was not for sale. He constantly 
assured himself of this fact, while he persistently 
declared that no clinging female should ever divert 
him from the path of rectitude which he had map¬ 
ped out for himself. 

As for Rosebud, she had not settled her affec¬ 
tions upon any one. She was simply running 
wild, unclaimed, unhaltered and unbroken. It 


228 Romances of the Rugged Road 

is small wonder that these two young persons 
came to think highly of each other. They had 
more idle time on their hands than was good for 
either, so they spent considerable time in taking 
long rides over the country together. Whether 
Dangity knew it or not, he was being rapidly 
drawn into the swirling maelstrom of love. 

When he was alone he remembered his high re¬ 
solves, but when he was in the company of his 
goddess he forgot all.about them. 

He became very fond of the girl and this awak¬ 
ened the animosity of other admirers, including 
the owner of the Red Eagle, who laid his plans 
to catch his prey. 

One day Dangity walked into the cottage, to 
find Brick and Rosebud engaged in a lively tilt, 
and to discover Rosebud in tears. 

“I just won’t work in that rotten place for you 
or anyone else!” she declared with a burst of 
temper. 

“Why, Joe is all right; there ain’t a better man 
in this town than Joe Rogers, ’nd I don’t care 
who says it either,” Brick was saying when Dan¬ 
gity stepped into the room. 

“Oh Dangity, or—ah—I mean Mr. Fay,” Rose¬ 
bud cried turning to him with her tear-stained 
face, “won’t you tell Brick here not to ask me 
to work in the Red Eagle?” 

“The Red Eagle! Well of all places, who wants 
you to work there?” he asked quietly, looking 
from one to the other. “Why, Joe Rogers has 
been after Brick here to ask me to come down 
there and work. He says he will pay me good 
wages, and dear knows we need the money,” she 
whimpered. 


229 


Money Makes Friends 

Dangity was in a quandary. He had never 
mixed in family quarrels, but he did feel a special 
interest in this girl, and he knew that the Red 
Eagle was no place for her, not under a man like 
Rogers. After thinking the matter over a mo¬ 
ment he turned to her and asked, “How much will 
you get down there, if I’m not asking too many 
questions ?” 

It was Brick who spoke up in reply. “Get? 
Why she’ll get fifty dollars a month and her keep, 
and that looks like a good thing for a girl, the 
way times are now,” the answer was snapped out 
vigorously. 

Her mother, Mrs. Ward, who had taken no part 
in the controversy, now spoke up and said, “I 
do hope that Rosebud won’t have to go to work 
in a place of that kind, for I’m afeered of that man 
Rogers. I’m only a woman, but that man don’t 
look good to me; no, sir, I don’t like that man’s 
looks.” 

Dangity was opposed to her going to the Red 
Eagle. Of course he was not her guardian—that 
is, not just yet—but he had no use for Joe Rogers 
because he knew what sort of a joint he ran; 
so he urged Rosebud not to go, until Brick got 
mad and ordered him out of the house, but as he 
was much bigger than Brick he only laughed at 
his protestations. Later he spoke to her mother 
privately and offered to give her as much as Rose¬ 
bud would earn if she would keep her home. 

The news got back to Rogers that Dangity had 
spoiled his game, and he was wild. “If that Kid 
don’t keep his nose out of my business there’ll be 
work for the undertaker around here soon,” he 
boasted to his patrons. 


230 Romances of the Rugged Road 

Now, Dangity was no brawler. He liked a good 
clean scrap, but he detested the snarling coyotes 
that worked in the dark. 

A few days after she had turned down Rogers' 
offer, Rosebud and he were walking along the 
street near Joe’s place when she pulled his arm 
and said, “There’s Rogers there now, let’s go 
across the street and we won’t meet him.” 

Again the scriptural injunction about the wise 
man seeing the evil and fleeing came to him, but 
he didn’t know enough to run. The sight of these 
two together was like shaking a rag in a bull’s 
face, to Rogers, who was standing with three or 
four others in front of his cafe. Rosebud was on 
the inside and as they passed, Rogers stuck out 
his neck and hissed in her ear, “I’ll git that snake 
that’s with ya there, yet.” 

Dangity stopped and pulled his arm away from 
Rosebud while he looked Rogers in the eye and 
said, “Well, what’s eatin’ you?” This led to 
words which became more violent and soon they 
were engaged in a fight, and what a fight it was! 

Rogers was older and heavier than Dangity, 
but he had taken on too much flesh and his wind 
was poor. In a few minutes the pace became so 
fast that he was blowing like a whale, while Dan- 
gity’s youth and stamina served him well, pro¬ 
vided he could keep Rogers from getting a hold 
of him. 

Rosebud wanted to help Dangity, but the crowd 
which gathered held her back, and all she could 
do was to shout, “Soak him, give it to him Dan¬ 
gity, give it to him!” 

Rogers, seeing that he was getting the worst 
of the game, put his hand on his hip as though 


231 


Money Makes Friends 

to draw a gun, at the same time calling on his 
employees to lend a hand, but they were in no 
mood for mixing matters with this young husky, 
while Dangity, anticipating the move towards the 
machinery pocket, sprang onto him so quick that 
the fight as far as Rogers was concerned was 
over, and then his friends carried him inside. 

Brick, who was also a spectator, grabbed Dan- 
gity’s hand and exclaimed, “You're too good a 
man for me, boy, or any one else around these 
diggin's, I'll say!" 

There were others of the fair sex as well as 
Rosebud who had their eyes on Dangity, and who 
would have liked very well to have secured him 
for a meal ticket or a guardian for the rest of 
their life. When one of these suggested that it 
would be nice to travel in double harness with a 
charming fellow like him, he rather hurt her pride 
by bursting out ungallantly, “No, I can't afford to 
trail no incumbrances around with me." 

“Incumbrance, well! I like your nerve, I do. 
Why, the very idea! You’d think the girls were 
running after you, the way you talk!" she flared 
up at him till he was forced to acknowledge that 
he never would understand the creatures. 

Several weeks of the sort of life he found there 
convinced him that he was only wasting his time 
in a small town like this. Then, too, matters were 
becoming too serious for him. One moment of 
weakness might jeopardize his whole life, and 
might mean his staying in Alturas permanently, 
perhaps below ground at that. 

He found that he was making most of the fun 
here himself and paying a good price for the 
privilege, so he made up his mind to shake the 


232 'Romances of the Rugged Road 

dust of the plains from his feet and try the life 
of the big city. 

It nearly broke Rosebud’s heart when he talked 
of going. “Oh Dangity, life won’t be worth living 
around here any more for me after you’re gone. 
That Joe Rogers will pester me to death. Can’t 
you take me with you ? I can ride as well as you 
can, and if I could only get to a big city I could 
easily find a place there. I’ll be your girl for life 
if you will,” she pleaded with him, until it re¬ 
quired a strong will on his part to advise her to 
stay where she was, and keep away from the city. 

“No, you stay here now, little girl, the city is no 
place for a charming girl like you. If I don’t get 
out of here some fair charmer will throw a loop 
around my neck, or some of these brave lady 
killers you have here will jealously take me for a 
target some day, and it will be curtains and slow 
music for mine,” he explained to Rosebud as she 
clung to his hand. 

It was well for Jemima that when complications 
threatened to set in, Dangity always took a tum¬ 
ble, or got a hunch from somewhere, and moved 
on. 

He was willing to be a guardian angel, or a 
knight-errant, to these needy damsels, but he 
could only be such to one of them if he were roped 
and married, while by keeping away from en¬ 
tanglements he could give his protection to many. 

So one fine morning, seated on the best pony he 
could buy, a spirited Arizona pinto, he rode down 
the main street of the small western town, and 
headed out towards the southland. None but a 
few early birds and one or two ardent lady ad- 


Money Makes Friends 233 

mirers knew of his going, but these gave him a 
Godspeed and a parting wave of the hand. Rose¬ 
bud insisted on him taking her along with him, 
but he induced her to stay with her mother and 
in a sense “play in her own back yard,” where 
her mother could keep an eye on her. 

It was thus that he bid good-bye to the scene 
of his luckiest adventures and headed for the 
open country once more, still bubbling over with 
the spirit of romance and adventure, and still 
single. 

Away to the west the snow-capped heights of 
Mount Shasta sparkled in the sun, while to the 
east the Warner range, and to the south Old 
Baldy stood mute sentinels above the plains. 

He passed through hamlet and mining camp, 
nestling among the hills, or past the cabin of the 
rancher or homesteader who were the forerunners 
of a more populous day. Not a care crossed his 
mind, nor was he in any hurry to leave these en¬ 
chanted surroundings, so he just loafed and 
drifted idly along, giving free rein to his horse 
and also to his fancy. 

The only feeling which marred the complete 
enjoyment of these blissful scenes was that of 
lonesomeness, and of a truth he was lonesome. 
Of what use would be the riches of the world if 
one had to live alone ? 

“Here I am, as free as the wind. I can go where 
I like and see all there is to see. What more 
could a fellow ask in this world?” he soliloquized 
as he rode along, and yet he felt that he must 
have some one to share his joys with him. He 
thought of Jemima and how he wished she were 


234 Romances of the Rugged Road 

with him now. What would she say if she could 
see how he had grown? He wondered if she 
really did care for him, and if she would be foolish 
enough to wait for him to return. 

The evening of the second day, while nearing 
Susanville, he came to a schoolhouse and, as 
school was just over, the teacher happened to be 
riding his way. 

From her he learned that Safrona had been 
the teacher of this school only the last year, but 
that she had married a prosperous young rancher 
and had moved away. He could not help congrat¬ 
ulating her on her good fortune, and then he 
thought of how near he came to getting her him¬ 
self. He thought of all the girls he had met— 
Safrona, the one in Reno, the Indian girl, and 
lastly Rosebud. Had he become, after all, a ladies' 
man without knowing it? He vowed to be more 
careful in the future, but of course there were 
no girls present, just now. 

The following day he reached Crescent Mills, on 
the north fork of the Feather river, having had 
a very delightful ride. The scenery enraptured 
him. From the heights he could look away across 
the great Sacramento Valley, where the rivers 
wound like threads of silver through the golden 
plains, or whirled and tumbled as they sparkled on 
their way through the foothills to reach them. 

There is an air of romance and dreaminess 
about those California hills, which holds a peculiar 
fascination for the lover of beauty. Every hill 
and rock seems to hold some spirit of allurement, 
some wraith of mystery, some legend of romance. 

Coming down into the valley, he reached the 


Money Makes Friends 235 

railroad at Oroville, where he disposed of his 
horse and saddle. 

To the fellow who bought them he gave this 
warning, “Take good care of that pony now, for 
if you don’t, my ghost will come back and haunt 
you.” They were such friends that he was sorry 
to leave it behind, but he knew it would be better 
there than it would be in the city. 


236 Romances of the Rugged Road 


CHAPTER XIV 
Towns With A History 

Having disposed of his horse, he took the train 
to Sacramento. 

The fellow who follows the wanderlust leads a 
life of continual partings. Old friends, like old 
scenes, are continually traded for new ones. He 
is ever saying “hello” or “good-bye” to some one. 
His ambition is the same, whether he rides the 
rods or the cushions, the bumpers or the buffet, 
travels saloon or steerage, his one object seems 
to be to get from where he is to where he ain’t. 

He found Sacramento a very interesting place. 
It was not unlike other bustling cities where the 
rich and the poor meet. There are those who 
have won and those who have failed, although the 
latter are always in the majority. 

He tested everything the town had to offer in 
the way of amusement or entertainment, even 
going to church on several occasions, partly out 
of curiosity, and partly because he was so lone¬ 
some he wanted the company of good people once 
in a while as a sort of off»et to the other kind, the 
ones he had mixed with so much, the common kind 
—the sinners. 

There was a time, not so many years ago, when 
Sacramento was the chief city in the state. It is 
true that it is still the capital, but in those days 


237 


Towns With a History 

it was the Mecca for the gold-diggers. Men came 
here from all over the world, from the brawny 
Cornishman, the hardy Scotchman, and the wiry 
Australian to the high-spirited American of every 
state. 

One could find here the adventurous spirits of 
all nations. This, of course, was many years be¬ 
fore Dangity reached it, but there were a few of 
these old pioneers and prospectors still here; tak¬ 
ing life easy and trying, in the words of the poet, 

“To husband out life’s taper at the close, 

And keep the flame from wasting, by repose.” 

Sitting in the park one day, he got a chance to 
engage one of these Ancient Mariners who had 
sailed a prairie schooner across the desert in the 
early days, in conversation. “Pretty nice place, 
this,” Dangity opened up. A good method, he 
found, of obtaining information. 

“Oh yes, this ben’t so bad,” the old man replied, 
stroking his long grey beard and looking up at 
the sky as if to scrutinize the heavens before 
venturing a reply, and then he added expectantly, 
“ ’Tain’t bad fer Californy.” 

“I guess you have pretty good weather out here 
all the time, don’t you?” “Good weather! Why, 
be you a stranger in these parts?” the old man 
asked, looking Dangity over carefully, disregard¬ 
ing his comments about the weather, which 
seemed to him to be superfluous. 

“Well, yes, I am something of a stranger around 
here,” Dangity replied eagerly, watching his in¬ 
formant throwing back his shoulders in an effort 
to remove the hump which Father Time had 
forged there. 

“If you’re a stranger here, boy, I kin tell you 


-# 


238 Romances of the Rugged Road 

lots uv things about Californy that I reckon you 
ain’t never heered afore. Thee ain’t no place in 
the hull wide world that hez the romance about 
it this place hez. Men come here from all over 
the world to find gold; some got it and some got 
killed, and some lost all they got in a few hours 
in the gamblin’-houses, or else got robbed. 

My, oh, my! What things I’ve seen sence I 
ben here! ’Tain’t no wonder my hair’s grey; no 
sir, ’tain’t,” he went on dreamily, awakening a 
great desire in Dangity to hear more about his 
experiences. 

“You surely must have seen a lot of strange 
things. Tell me about some of them, won’t you?” 

“Strange things! Well I should say so! Take 
fer instance the case uv Jack Wilson ’nd Budd 
Hammer, ever heered about them?” he asked as 
he looked inquiringly at Dangity. 

“No, I can’t say that I have; tell me about 
them, will you?” 

“Well, they was two young fellas thet come 
out here from way back East somewheres and 
went inta tha diggin’s together. Seems Wilson 
was in love with Hammer’s sister, ’nd so they 
agreed to work together ’nd take share and share 
alike. Hammer hed another brother but he’d 
gone away years before ’nd no one knew where 
he was. 

Well, by ’nd by they both struck it rich, ’nd 
after a while they corned to Sacreemento ’tendin’ 
to go on home. Somehow or other they got ta 
gamblin’ and lost all ther dough. 

They couldn’t bear to go home thet away, so 
back they goes ta the hills again, ’nd sure enough 
if they didn’t strike ’er agin,” he exclaimed, his 


Towns With a History 239 

face aglow and his eyes snapping like fire, as he 
paused long enough to expectorate across the 
roadway. 

“Back they comes to Sacreemento, 'nd Wilson 
gits to hittin' the game agin, but Hammer claimed 
he had enough uv thet stuff 'nd was goin' home. 

Well, Wilson starts in ta play and fust off he 
won big, but by ’nd by his luck turns, 'nd I'll be 
durned if he didn't drop the hull pile afore he 
quits. He couldn't go home thetaway very well, 
so Hammer goes on, 'nd he goes back ta try his 
luck onct more. ‘Tell Maggie I’ll be along soon,' 
he says ta Hammer as they parts company. 

You know it says somethin' somewheres about 
Satan enterin' into a man; well, sir, somethin’ uv 
thet sort must hev happened ta Jack Wilson, fer 
on his way back he comes acrost a fella thet had 
made his pile, 'nd he up and kills him 'nd takes 
his swag. 

Yes, sir; jist leaves him layin’ there like a dog." 

“My, I nearly had that same thing happen to 
me once," Dangity shuddered as he recalled his 
own narrow escape back there in the cabin. 

“Ya did, eh ? Well you know how it goes then. 
But thee ain't no luck ever comes from them sort 
uv capers, sez I, 'nd sure enough when Wilson gits 
back here agin I’ll be durned if he didn’t start 
right in ta play with thet other fella’s money, 'nd 
'taint a long story, but I’ll be durned if he didn't 
lose agin. 

When he got down ta the bottom uv the sack 
what hed the fella's savin's in, he found somethin' 
wrapped in a paper, 'nd he sez ta the dealer, ‘I 
think this’s a picture!' The dealer sez, ‘Well, if 
it is, put it on the game, it will bring ya luck.' 


240 Romances of the Rugged Road 

I’ll be durned if he didn’t play it and lose, ’nd when 
they tuk it out to look at it, I’ll be durned if it 
wasn’t the picture uv his own gal Maggie Ham¬ 
mer. 

'Good Lord,’ he gasped, when he seed thet, ’nd 
it jist dawns on him the fella he killed was Mag¬ 
gie’s other brother. 

"Well, sir, the shock was too much fer him, ’nd 
he goes out ’nd blows his brains out, ’nd thet’s 
as true as we’re a sittin’ here,” he wound up with 
a mournful expression on his wrinkled face. 

"My goodness! What terrible things have been 
going on among these California hills,” Dangity 
exclaimed when the old man had finished. 

"Thet be right, boy, thet be right,” he repeated 
reminiscently, while he stroked his beard and spat 
upon the ground. 

'The Almighty made these heer bootiful hills, 
but man’s ben a raisin’ hell ever sence he come. 
My boy, I cud tell ya uv murders ’nd crimes thet’s 
ben committed ’round heer, thet would turn your 
hair es grey es mine es, jist ta hear about ’em, yas 
sir, jist ta hear it.” 

"I guess a fellow has to fight for everything 
he gets in this world,” Dangity remarked reflec¬ 
tively, with a faraway look in his eyes. 

"Eh boy, that’s it, sez I, that’s it; but durn the 
man es won’t fight fair, sez I, thet’s me, thet’s my 
word fer it,” he shouted after Dangity moving 
down the path to the street. 

With these and many like stories was Dangity 
regaled by the "old-timers” he met from day to 
day. No doubt it was from such men as these 
that Mark Twain, Bret Harte and Eugene Field re¬ 
ceived the background for many of their most 


Towns With a History 241 

interesting tales, and no doubt they had passed 
similar hours right here in Sacramento, for this 
old town is the rendezvous for many romantic 
California figures of the old school. 

It occupies a commanding position here at the 
foot of the mountains, on the edge of the valley 
of the same name, being in touch with both the 
mining and ranching industry, and the head of 
navigation for large steamers on the Sacramento 
river. Its climate is beautiful and in a few hours 
one may pass from the hot summer streets into 
the cool of the snow-capped mountains. 

Dangity now felt that he was really beginning 
to live. Here was what might be called a real 
city. It was large enough for one to move about 
without attracting undue attention, and not so 
large that there was danger of getting lost in its 
monotonous miles of brick and stone, and plate- 
glass windows. 

But even this began to pall on him and he craved 
still greater excitement. It is said in the Sacred 
Book somewhere that “the eye is not filled with 
seeing, nor the ear with hearing,” each craves 
still for something more. 

He grew so lonesome in the dreamy atmosphere 
that he began to think seriously of going home. 
He pictured the excitement his return would cre¬ 
ate in the old town, besides all the good he could 
do for those he loved, and it was all he could do 
to restrain his impulse to buy a ticket and fly for 
the old nest. 

He was torn between the desire to go home and 
a greater one to see more of the world before 
yielding to it. Falling in with a company of peo¬ 
ple from San Francisco turned the scale in favor 


242 Romances of the Rugged Road 

of the latter course when they told him of the 
wonders of the city by the Golden Gate. 

“You haven't seen anything worth while, if you 
haven’t seen ’Frisco,” was the story he heard most 
every day from some one, so he determined to 
take a run down there before going home. 

The trip down along the river was very fine, 
and when the beauties of San Francisco bay burst 
upon him, and later the sight of the city itself, he 
was taken completely by surprise. 

“My! I never imagined there was anything like 
this in the world!” he exclaimed to the friends 
he had met on the train. 

“Yas, California, and especially this part of it, 
is the finest place that lays out of doors,” his new 
acquaintance beamed loquaciously, radiating a 
smile of good cheer. 

“I’ll say this is something grand!” he said later 
to a man who stood with him looking over the rail 
of the ferry steamer on the way over from Oak¬ 
land to San Francisco. 

The man, who proved to be a prosperous Italian 
fruit grower from Calaveras county, a jolly en¬ 
thusiastic California type that are becoming fa¬ 
miliar figures along the coast, smiled and replied, 
“Yaas, you bet. She maka the beeg jump since I 
coma heer ’bout twenty year ago. She grow lika 
seexty ever sens too, you bet!” 

“Does it cost much to live in Frisco, now?” he 
inquired of another passenger whom he recog¬ 
nized. 

“Well now, thet depends. If you want to go 
high there ain’t no limit; but if you haven’t got 
it, you kin live mighty blame cheap there, yes sir, 
blame cheap,” he spoke confidentially, thinking, 


Towns With a History 243 

perhaps, that Dangity was down on his luck and 
looking for help. 

“Well, I don’t need to l$ok for the cheap places 
now, I was just wondering,” he returned quickly, 
for fear he should be misunderstood. 

As soon as he landed, he hailed a cab and told 
the driver to take him to the best hotel in town, 
feeling, as he did so, that he was putting it over 
on the fellows who seemed to feel so big when 
they piled into his old bus in Slowtown. 

“Wonder what the cheerful Mrs. Milligan would 
think if she saw me riding in this thing, and going 
to the biggest hotel in the place. Or old Justice 
Frost, what would he say? Well, I only wish some 
of those wise ones that told me not to leave home 
could see me now,” he mumbled as he was whisked 
along in the nifty motor-cab, and when it drove 
into the court at the Palace Hotel, and a bunch of 
flunkies rushed out and grabbed every little parcel 
he had and escorted him into the luxurious lobby 
like the Duke of Cackyack, he felt like a man in 
a dream, who was afraid every minute he would 
wake up and hear some one bawling him out be¬ 
cause the horses weren’t ready. 

After getting settled, he spent his time wander¬ 
ing around the city, and soon became completely 
enraptured with it. He liked everything he saw. 
There is no city in the country which has the air 
of romance about it that ’Frisco has, excepting it 
might have an argument with New Orleans, but 
I think, at that, that San Francisco has nothing 
to fear from the city by the Gulf. 

Its history dates back to the days of the Span¬ 
iard, the Freebooter and the Buccaneer, who from 
an early date made its harbors their rendezvous. 


244 Romances of the Rugged Road 

Later came the days of the gold-seekers and the 
Vigilantes, and there is wrapped up in many of 
its old buildings, or at least there was when they 
existed before the great earthquake and lire of 
1906 swept them away, many a story of success 
and failure, of strange and eccentric characters, 
of love, bloodshed and adventure. 

Then there is that galaxy of historical figures 
whose life is inseparably linked with that of San 
Francisco and the entire Grizzly Bear State. 

I speak of Claus Spreckels, of Rudolph Sutro, of 
Collis P. Huntington, of Lucky Baldwin, of the 
Fairs, the Crockers, and of the Big Three—Flood, 
McKay and O’Brien—of Comstock fame, not to 
mention many others whose names now slip my 
memory. The fabulous fortunes made in the early 
days of the gold-diggers was responsible for the 
rise to fame and the atmosphere which sur¬ 
rounded many of these characters. 

There were other lesser lights who shone in a 
political or social way, such as Sandlot Kearney, 
or Coffee House John. And then we must not 
forget that Robert Louis Stevenson, and John 
Muir, and Bret Harte, and Jack London, and other 
literary geniuses lent their light to illuminate the 
life of this gay center of mutual attraction for the 
good fellows of all time. 

What wonderful restaurants and grottoes and 
eating and drinking places the old town could 
boast of! The fun-loving French, Italian and Bo¬ 
hemian races mixed and mingled with the spar¬ 
kling Spanish or American natives who gave life 
and vitality to the cosmopolitan company of pleas¬ 
ure-loving patrons who crowded their confines to 


245 


Towns With a History 

capacity. These foreigners brought the free-and- 
easy traditions of southern Europe to be mixed 
with the freer traditions of this new land. 

San Francisco was always considered liberal in 
the matter of morals. So long as one did not in¬ 
terfere with the life of his neighbor, and kept out 
of jail, the matter of his personal vices was left 
pretty much to the dictates of his own conscience. 
As to eating and drinking, it was easy to find 
every viand and lotion meant to tickle the palate 
of the most fastidious. 

Dangity plunged eagerly into the swirl of 
gayety which encircled him on every side. He 
spent his days in sightseeing and his evenings at 
the theatre or the cafe. 

“I can afford to play the gentleman now,” he 
reasoned, “and I intend to have as good a time as 
I know how.” The green, uncouth ne’er-do-well 
had certainly stepped into a new and untried 
world. 

With all of his pleasure he was not happy; that 
is, he enjoyed himself hugely as far as created 
pleasure was concerned, but inwardly he felt that 
there was still something missing which would 
make his joy lasting and complete. 

His money had been lavished upon himself, and 
he was yet to find that real joy would only be 
found in helping others. He began to think more 
and more of the folks at home, and the more he 
thought of them the more he felt like a piker in 
not writing, but his insane resolve not to write 
prevented him from helping as he might. 

But, as I have said, the romance of this sort of 
arrangement was all on one side of the ledger, 


246 Romances of the Rugged Road 

and after a time his conscience knocked so loud 
he made up his mind not to wait any longer, but 
to write at once, and he did so, writing a brief let¬ 
ter and enclosing a small draft for good measure. 


Good News From a Far Country 247 


CHAPTER XV 

Good News From A Far Country 

Time continued to pass wearily with the folks 
at home. 

The children had long since abandoned all hope 
of hearing from Dangity, and the little train came 
and went each day without causing more than a 
passing thought. 

The struggle had indeed been a hard one. 
Measles and then scarlet fever had been epidemic, 
and the children of the old home had suffered their 
share of both. 

During the long sickness, whenever Jemima 
was home from school she had been a willing 
nurse, and more than once Mrs. Fay had said with 
tears in her eyes that “if it hadn’t been for Jemi¬ 
ma she would have been forced to give up and call 
in outside help, and they could never afford to pay 
for that.” 

Many a time they wondered what had become 
of Dangity. Had he been killed? Or had he just 
forgotten them? 

His mother had written to Reno, but the let¬ 
ter had been returned uncalled-for. 

The mystery of his silence remained unan¬ 
swered. It was now more than three years since 
he went away, and not a word had come to break 
the monotony or the suspense of the silence. 
There was no romance in that, for her. 


248 Romances of the Rugged Road 

Both Mr. and Mrs. Junebug were at their wit’s 
end. They had tried every strategy they could 
think of to induce Jemima to be more friendly to¬ 
wards the young man of their choice, but the sum 
total of their efforts had resulted in her entertain¬ 
ing the promising prospect, but beyond mere en¬ 
tertainment there was no sign of anything like a 
lasting engagement being formed. 

“What in tarnation ails that girl, anyhow?” 
old Simon asked Rachel more than once when they 
were alone, but Rachel could give no satisfactory 
answer, except to remark on one occasion, “I 
think she’s set on that fool Fay fellow, some way 
or another.” 

Both Willie and Ted were exerting all their 
wiles, but Jemima remained indifferent to the ad¬ 
vances or charms of either. Her father often re¬ 
marked in her presence about what a successful 
man Willie was, and what a fine home he would 
provide for some lucky girl; while mother, on the 
other side, was forever telling about the fine 
things that were being said about the achieve¬ 
ments of Ted in an athletic way, and of what a 
very handsome-looking fellow he had become. 

“I tell you, that Willie Gold can buy and sell 
all of the young men in this town put together, 
and have plenty left besides,” Pa would exclaim 
whenever Willie’s name was mentioned, which was 
every time the conversation turned on the topic 
of young men, and Pa was around. 

“Oh yes, if you only look at the money side of 
the question, I suppose he’s all right, but I like a 
fellow who looks like something,” Ma would say, 
looking over at the stooped and dried-up form of 
her husband. It seems only natural for some peo- 


Good News From a Far Country 249 

pie to always covet the thing they haven’t got, 
and maybe never will have any chance of getting, 
like the girl who wants to be a boy, or vice versa. 

Perhaps that explains why Mrs. Junebug was 
so anxious that whatever else the fellow might 
have, or might not have, if he was fortunate 
enough to win her lovely daughter he must of all 
things be big and handsome. 

And so Simon and Rachel kept their own coun¬ 
sels, and worked and schemed on, while Jemima 
waited and trusted, while all the time her ideal 
grew and grew, until now, unknown to either her 
or her parents, he was well qualified to fulfill the 
specifications of either, or both of them. The only 
danger was that he would be captured by some 
winsome charmer before he came within the orbit 
of her affections again. Like the main prize on 
the wheel of fortune, he was likely to stop in front 
of the wrong number at any time. 

It seemed affairs in Slowtown had been more 
quiet than usual, of late. The winter had been 
long and severe. For months the cold winds 
whistled across the barren fields and rocked the 
leafless old trees, while a heavy mantle of snow 
buried every sign of verdant life beneath it, and 
added to the chill that pervaded the air. 

It was Saturday evening, and Jemima had been 
visiting at the modest home on the little side 
street, where she was trying to cheer up Mrs. Fay 
and the children by telling them funny stories, at 
which she was clever, when the whistle of the 
train was heard, signaling its arrival, as usual. 

“Jack, run down just for fun and see if there 
is any mail; I’ve been thinking of Dangity again 
today,” Mrs. Fay said to the youngest boy. 


250 Romances of the Rugged Road 

“Oh mother, I don’t want to go. I know there 
won’t be anything, besides I’ve gone to that old 
post-office so often that every one in town knows 
what I’m lookin’ for.” 

“Now, Jack, you know that when you don’t ex¬ 
pect things is just the very time you get them,” 
said Jemima, laughing. 

“Well, if you want me to, I’ll go,” said Jack, 
getting his cap and coat. 

“Why, certainly I want you to go, and if you 
don’t hurry I’ll go myself,” she exclaimed, quite 
as if she meant it. 

Jack got ready and went, quite expecting the 
same old answer of course, of “nothing here,” but, 
instead, the postmaster handed him out a nice- 
looking envelope with a picture of the Palace hotel 
on the corner of it. He was so surprised he could 
hardly take it, but once in his hands he ran all 
the way home, and bounding into the kitchen he 
threw it into his astonished mother’s lap. 

“My stars! Is it from him?” Jemima asked, 
seeing Mrs. Fay tearing feverishly at the corner 
of it. She did not answer, for when she read the 
first two words, “Dear Mother,” and saw the draft, 
which was for five hundred dollars, she buried her 
face in her hands and began to cry with joy. 

The reaction had been too great for her, after 
the long cheerless night of waiting. The noonday 
sun, breaking out into its full brilliance, without 
the softening influence of the gradual opening of 
the dawn, its white light had for the moment al¬ 
most blinded her. Jemima was so affected that 
she cried with her, because it seemed, under the 
circumstances, to be the proper thing to do. 

When their feelings had been sufficiently re- 


Good News From a Far Country 251 

lieved to allow their curiosity to reassert itself, 
they proceeded to read the letter. 

It was not a long one, nor did it say anything 
about his good fortune, except that he was glad 
to be able to enclose the draft, and hoped to be in 
a position to send some more money soon. No 
doubt he thought it best to break the news gently. 

He didn’t say a word about Jemima, but she 
felt as though she were walking on air, as she 
skipped lightly home, so happy she could hardly 
keep from shouting. 

Her father and mother were having supper 
when she bounded in and her mother noticed at 
once that there was something unusual about her 
demeanor. 

“What has happened, Jemima?” she asked. 

“Why, nothing, mother. What makes you ask 
that?” she replied, trying to appear unconcerned. 

“Oh yes, I know there is something up, just by 
the looks of your face; you can’t fool me,” Rachel 
laughed as she shook her head. 

“Well, I suppose I may as well tell you; Mrs. 
Fay just had a letter from Dangity,” she burst 
out with a tenseness in her voice that betrayed 
suppressed emotion. 

“You don’t say so!” her mother gasped. “Is 
he sick somewheres ?” 

Before Jemima could answer, her father snap¬ 
ped out, “More ’an likely he’s in jail somewhere; 
I’ll bet he’s wantin’ money anyhow!” 

“Why, how you people talk!” Jemima flared up 
indignantly. “You’d think he was a robber, or a 
cripple, or something worse, the way you go on!” 

“Whm-m, well I’ll bet he’s dead broke, isn’t he?” 
Simon grinned at her. 


252 Romances of the Rugged Road 

‘‘Broke! Well I should say not. If you want 
to know the real truth, he actually sent his mother 
a big draft for five hundred dollars, and that’s—” 

“FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS!” her father 
gasped. “Five hundred dollars! Landsakes! 
What will that poor woman do with all that 
money? I better see her about takin’ care of that 
for her, right away,” he added after second 
thought. 

“And you say he isn’t sick or anything?” her 
mother inquired meekly. 

“No, no; he didn’t say anything about being 
sick; in fact he didn’t say anything much about 
himself, at all—just asked about the folks, and 
said he hoped to be able to send more soon.” 

“Didn’t say anything about bein’ married, did 
he?” her father asked with such marked interest 
that Mrs. Junebug turned around on her way to 
the kitchen with a load of dishes, and looking him 
square in the eye said, 

“Well, Simon Junebug, what difference does 
that make whether he is or not, I’d like to know?” 

“Oh none at all, I guess, but I just thought I 
like to find out, that’s all,” he snorted as he grab¬ 
bed his hat and went out to look at a lot Willie 
Gold was hoping to sell him for more than it was 
worth. 

“Five hundred dollars,” he muttered to himself 
as he walked along the street, “five hundred, eh?” 
he repeated, as if this were a sum worth thinking 
about. “That rascal may have some money then 
after all. Any boy who will send that much home 
all at once must have more, unless,” he chuckled, 
“he stole it.” 

As it was, this handsome draft had gone a long 


Good News From a Far Country 253 

way towards raising Dangity in the estimation of 
Simon. He was not nearly so hostile as he had 
been, and in fact he even mentioned to Willie the 
news about the letter, in which he laid undue 
stress about the enclosure of the draft; remarks 
which caused Willie to shrug his shoulders and 
say by way of rebuttal, '‘Oh well, five hundred 
dollars isn’t very much for a fellow to send home 
in three years.” 

“No, that’s true,” said Simon, “but it does show 
he isn’t broke, anyhow.” 

True, this evidence of prosperity was having its 
effect upon Simon, for when he and Rachel were 
alone that evening and she referred to Mrs. Fay’s 
good fortune, remarking also about how badly the 
remittance was needed, he spoke up and said, 
“There may be something to that young scamp, 
after all.” 

Ma was very anxious to know if he had said 
anything about coming home, or if he had sent 
his picture, but Jemima said that he hadn’t. 

Ted Strong called that very evening to take 
Jemima to a concert which was being given in 
the town hall, and while he was waiting for her 
to get ready Ma told him all about the letter from 
Dangity. 

“Well, I suppose Jemima will be satisfied now 
that he has been heard from, she talks about him 
so much, you know,” he said trying to smile. 

“Yes, it seems to have given her new life al¬ 
ready; she’s as chipper as a bird now, and all be¬ 
cause Mrs. Fay got that letter from Dangity, and 
he never mentioned a word about her in it, 
either,” her mother concluded so demurely that 
one would almost say that it savored of regret. 


254 Romances of the Rugged Road 

‘‘Well, Dangity always was a queer kid,” said 
Ted, trying to appear unconcerned, “but the boys 
never thought he would amount to much, he was 
so timid and backward; in fact, they thought he 
was a coward!” 

“Looks like he’d gained something by going 
away,” Mrs. Junebug remarked, looking over at 
Ted, who failed to make the application. 

But how had the news from Dangity affected 
Jemima herself? She was so overwhelmed with 
joy that it was hard for her to appear natural, or 
to conceal her emotions. In the first place, she 
was glad that he was alive and well, for his 
mother’s sake, although, if she had really known 
how often he was in danger, she would have ap¬ 
preciated that fact nnuch more than she did. 
Next, she was glad that he had been able to take 
care of at least part of the needs of the family; 
the other children had been able to help some, but 
not enough to pay expenses. 

Lastly, she was glad that, as far as could be 
gathered from the letter, no one had thrown that 
hitch onto him yet, and he was still unroped and 
unbranded, for he made no mention of any one 
else in the letter. Better than all, it had vindi¬ 
cated her judgment in standing out the way she 
had against the plans of her parents, and the wiles 
of her suitors, for they did not, nor could not, 
know of her intense love for Dangity. 

What fanciful pictures of the future her imag¬ 
ination had painted. She cared for no one but 
him, her promise to wait had been lived up to, and 
now she hoped that the realization of her dreams 
would be fulfilled. Poor girl, she was yet to prove 
the sorrow and chagrin of bitter disappointment. 


Good Neivs From a Far Country 255 

Dreams have such a disappointing way of going 
by opposites, you know! 

Ted found her in excellent spirits that night, 
but not much interested in the program, for some 
unaccountable reason. She had always been so 
vivacious before, he wondered what was wrong 
with her; and when they got home they found 
Willie trying to interest Pa and Ma. 

The meeting of the rivals was cordial, but not 
in any sense gushing. 

They talked only of commonplaces, neither 
making any reference to Dangity, although there 
was no doubt that he was uppermost in both their 
minds, but sometimes the thing we wish to talk 
about the most is the subject we purposely avoid, 
so neither one broached the paramount question 
of the hour. 

Jemima retired to her room that night with a 
lighter heart than she had known for months, 
and before going to bed she got out an old picture 
of Dangity she had kept hidden away, and kissed 
it, praying at the same time that he would make 
up his mind to come home at once, and that she 
would be able to show her love to him. 


256 Romances of the Rugged Road 


CHAPTER XVI 
Two Busy Weeks 

Dangity, having written home, now felt a great 
weight lifted from his mind and he had that buoy¬ 
ant consciousness which comes when one has per¬ 
formed a duty long delayed. It was a shame to 
think that he had put off writing as long as he 
did, and, now that his judgment had overcome his 
fancy, he counted the days until he could get a 
letter in reply. 

When the time had expired the answer came. 
They were all overjoyed in hearing from him and 
this compensated in some measure for the years 
of silence. The gratitude expressed for the help 
received and the news as to how badly it was 
needed brought the tears to his eyes, but what 
got under his skin, so to speak, was the urgent 
invitation to come home and see them as soon as 
possible, for they were dying with lonesomeness. 

It made him very homesick, and this, coupled 
with the pride he took in being able to show the 
skeptics that they had him pegged wrong, made 
a strong pull on his heartstrings. 

“Oh boy! When I strike that little burg won't 
I cut the swath, though!" he chuckled to himself. 
“Just leave it to me. Those folks have no idea 
how much I’m worth. Dangity’ll be the talk of 
the town. They’ll fall dead when they know the 
real truth.’’ 


257 


Two Busy Weeks 

As he wandered about the waterfront one day, 
his eye was attracted by a big sign which read 
about as follows: 

TRAVEL VIA THE TROPICS—VISIT NEW 
YORK BY WAY OF PANAMA. 

NO SMOKE NO DUST NO SNOW 

“That’s the game,” he exclaimed, and made 
straight for the office of the Steamship Company 
to arrange for passage on the next steamer. He 
found that it would be two weeks before he could 
get a berth, so he made the necessary arrange¬ 
ments, and then settled down to see all he could 
of ’Frisco while waiting. 

He took in the cities around the bay, including 
Oakland, Berkeley and Alameda, going down as 
far as Santa Cruz and San Jose. 

Up to this time there had been but little time 
in his life for pleasure. The grim necessity of 
hustling for a living had forced him to cut out 
everything which did not bear directly on the 
solving of that problem. 

When other boys were spending their evenings 
in the parks, or on the ball grounds, he was work¬ 
ing somewhere. 

Some boys seem to be able to play their way 
through school and college and in fact right on 
through life, while others have to work and hustle 
to earn their bread. 

This was one reason why he was vain enough 
to want to return to Slowtown. There wasn’t 
nearly as much pleasure in being rich among folks 
who never knew how poor he used to be as there 
would be in showing off his achievement to those 
who would appreciate the full portent of the dis¬ 
play. 


258 Romances of the Rugged Road 

“They only knew me as a poor kid who drove 
the grocer’s cart back there, it will open their eyes 
when they see what a change there is,” Dangity 
mused as he mixed with the folks around the 
hotel and found what little notice they took of 
him. He was a small pebble in so vast an ocean 
here. 

These large hotels are the hunting-grounds for 
a species of shark who play upon the gullibility 
and the ignorance of the idle rich. There were 
some of these around the Palace, and three of 
them sized Dangity up as a green youth who 
might be worked. 

There are certain people who look easy. They 
have that about their appearance which just 
seems to ooze confidence and gullibility. One can 
almost imagine hearing them say, “come and 
sting me,” or see them fall as soon as the scheme 
is presented to them. I won’t say that Dangity 
advertised his weakness as plainly as this, but he 
did display his generosity in more than one un¬ 
wise and unwarranted manner. 

I once knew a man in Nevada who was almost 
of the type just mentioned. He was telling one 
day of being on a train near Spokane when he 
was taken in by three men in a card game for a 
tidy sum, and when it was over he asked one of 
the fellows, “Say, what is there about me that 
makes everybody want to play me for a sucker? 
Do I look like a sucker, do I look easy? If I do, 
for heaven’s sake tell me, ’nd I’ll wear a mask 
after this.” 

He had been getting stung all his life and when 
you looked into his big sympathetic eyes they 


Two Busy Weeks 259 

said plainly, “Can I help you any?” which really 
means “I'm easy, sting me.” 

Somehow Dangity got acquainted with these 
fellows about the hotel. They managed that part 
of it, and after a while they got him interested in 
a small way in a deal where they all made some 
money. The first part of the game is generally 
very successful, anyway. 

They came to spend considerable time at cards, 
sometimes in Dangity's room, and sometimes in 
their own. 

One day thew were in a friendly game as usual 
in Dangity's room when one of the party sudden¬ 
ly burst into the room, and in an excited way ex¬ 
claimed, “Great Jupiter! If I only had $10,000 
I could clean up a cool one hundred thousand in 
a few days.” 

“My stars, Bill, how's that?” the other two 
gasped in astonishment. 

“Oh, it's all fixed, I got the inside dope. The 
guy that's putting up the deal is in a hole and has 
to make the deal even though he does know I’ll 
clean up a nice profit out of it. It's all fixed; 
there's no chance to lose.” 

The three of them set in to figure out how they 
could get the ten thousand, when one of them sug¬ 
gested to Dangity that if he would loan them the 
amount, they would go fifty-fifty with him on the 
profits. 

When he hesitated, they began to urge and even 
coax him to help them out. 

He could do it easily enough, and after a lot of 
persuasion and proof that the deal was all sewed 
up, he consented to advance the money. He had 
all of his paper transferred to a San Francisco 


260 Romances of the Rugged Road 

bank, so he drew a check for the amount and had 
just signed it and was looking it over when an 
old proverb came to his mind, ‘‘Woe be to him who 
is surety for a friend.” This thing he had forgot¬ 
ten for years popping into his mind caused him 
to pause and reflect, and, as he did so, looking up 
suddenly he caught what looked like a knowing 
wink pass from one to the other of two of the 
men. Instantly the fellow tried to cover up by 
urging him to hurry—a crook is always in a 
hurry—but his suspicions were aroused and he 
decided to keep the check. 

He threw his arms over the back of his head, 
and the moment he did so two fellows who had 
been standing behind him watching him draw the 
check, seized them and held them fast while the 
third man grabbed the check and check-book out 
of his pocket and bolted for the door. It was done 
so quickly that he had no chance to protect him¬ 
self. 

The Palace hotel was built with sound-proof 
walls, even the fire and earthquake failed to dam¬ 
age them, so it was very easy to strong-arm a man 
in any of the upper rooms. 

Dangity realized that he was up against it. He 
proved to be a tougher customer, though, than 
those fellows took him to be. He might be weak 
mentally, but he was all there when it came to the 
strong-arm stuff, for he wrenched himself clear 
and was on his feet in a jiffy, but the two men 
sprang on him, and bore him to the floor by sheer 
weight. He didn’t stay there long. He shook 
them from him as a bull would break a woolen 
cord, and as soon as they got to their feet he 
knocked them around the room like tenpins until 


Two Busy Weeks 261 

they both managed to get to the door, where they 
bolted out and disappeared. 

Dangity slammed the door behind him and 
bolted after them, but they eluded him in the 
great halls, so he gave up the chase and made a 
rush for the bank, with torn coat and flying col¬ 
lar, not waiting to call a cab, while the people 
seeing his condition took up the cry of “Stop 
thief! Stop thief!” as they tried to follow him. 

The fugitive had taken a cab, but Dangity ran 
so fast he reached the bank just as the fellow had 
received the money and was about to turn away 
with it. He gave the man a shove that landed 
him in a corner and reaching over grabbed the 
pile himself. 

This created a hubbub in the bank and the fel¬ 
low added to it by yelling loudly, “Thief! Thief!” 

Several men sprang onto Dangity and bore him 
to the floor, while the bank guard ran up and cov¬ 
ered him with his gun. In the melee Dangity had 
gotten a grip on the thug and held him fast also. 

In a few minutes he was able to establish his 
identity, something which the crook was not 
anxious to do, so he was held by the bank detec¬ 
tive while Dangity recovered the money. The 
police returned with him to the hotel, but the 
other two vultures had flown. 

They never put in an appearance there again 
while he remained. 

The owners apologized by saying, “We have 
those fellows get in here once in a while, they 
work only the best hotels,” which was a good 
recommendation for the place. This taught him 
to be more careful whom he chummed with after 
that. 


262 Romances of the Rugged Road 

In his wanderings about the street one Sunday 
evening he came to where a bunch of people were 
holding an open-air meeting on the corner. The 
good singing attracted his attention so he stopped 
to listen. He had been raised right, but the sort 
of life he had led for the past few years had not 
been conducive to religious devotion. When the 
man who looked like the preacher, spoke, he was 
compelled to listen. He thought of the men he 
had sent across the Great Divide, and he wondered 
if he would be blamed for that. He hoped he had 
always acted in self-defense. 

He was no Christian, he felt confident of that, 
but when a good-looking girl gave an invitation 
for all to come over to the church and hear the 
man finish his talk, he accepted and followed the 
crowd. 

The sermon was in behalf of the working girls 
of San Francisco, and it was one he never forgot. 
The preacher had been a man among men—one 
who had chugged salt water in his youth and knew 
what a man was up against when he set out to 
walk “the straight and narrow.” 

He went after that crowd without gloves as he 
shouted, “You big husky young men who are 
making and spending enough money to keep a 
nice little home where you can make some one 
happy, be men enough to take care of these good, 
hard-working girls who are finding it hard to 
make an honest living on the starvation wages 
they are able to get in this wicked city and both 
of you will be better off,” was one of the state¬ 
ments that hit many a young man right where he 
lived. 

As he made his stirring plea in behalf of the 


263 


Two Busy Weeks 

weaker sex, many a man was seen to cough and 
sneeze and look as though he wished the lights 
would go out, so the people could not see him. 

Seems funny, but a guilty man always thinks 
the preacher means him. 

“There is hardly a day,” the preacher went on, 
with a ring of irony in his voice, “but some poor 
girl who has been deceived by some heartless 
wretch in the shape of a man comes to my study 
begging me to help her. You think I am over¬ 
drawing the story? I can assure you that I am 
not, for if there is any one in the world who 
knows its sorrow and heartache, it is the priest 
or the preacher. You don’t know anything about 
it; you only see the best side of life; but I know 
it, for I see it all. If some of the vultures who 
prey on innocent youth, who are listening to my 
voice tonight, were hanged from a yard-arm the 
world would be better off.” 

He thundered on until Dangity grew very un¬ 
easy, and a deep conviction seized him that he was 
in that category himself. He was anxious to 
make amends. What could he do? He made up 
his mind to call on the preacher the next day 
and see if there was any assistance he could give 
that would help to make the load lighter for some 
one. 

When the morrow came he was reluctant to go. 
What is the use of being influenced by a senti¬ 
ment ? he thought. I was too easily moved by that 
preacher last night. Why should I put myself 
out for people I don’t know anything about? 

In spite of his reasoning the conviction that he 
should go and see the man grew upon him, so he 
stuck to his good resolve and did so. 


264 Romances of the Rugged Road 

The preacher, Mr. Wilson, was glad to see him 
and gave him a cordial welcome and in a little 
while they were fast friends. When Dangity 
offered to help him, his eyes brimmed with joy 
as he clasped his hand and said, “God bless you 
my boy, I hoped the spirit would get hold of some 
one last night and show them what to do, and I 
guess he did.” 

Dangity gave him a handsome check for his 
work, and when he did so he became conscious of 
a burst of joy that heretofore he had not known. 
“This gives me the most joy of anything I have 
done in a long time,” Dangity volunteered, “ex¬ 
cept,” he went on, “the draft I sent to mother.” 

“Yes, you’ll find that the only joy which never 
wears out is the joy of doing good,” his new 
friend advised. 

A moment later he said, “I have to go and see 
a poor unfortunate fellow who is dying in the 
New Winchester hotel, wouldn’t you like to come 
along with me?” 

“Well, I ain’t much for hanging round death¬ 
beds, but I’ve seen a few men die in my time, 
though,” Dangity replied. 

They went together to the hotel and there on 
the fourth floor, in a small room, on a small white 
bed, lay a living skeleton of what had once been a 
man, who looked up at them pathetically out of a 
pair of big blue eyes. 

Wilson went in and shook hands with him, say¬ 
ing, “Well, how are you today, brother?” 

The poor fellow grasped his hand and wheezed 
as he gasped for breath, “Going fast—if I could 
only—get hold—of that—morphine there—I’d 
soon be out—of this—d—n place.” 


265 


Two Busy Weeks 

“My good man, don’t talk like that; we’ll be 
only too glad to do anything we can to help you. 
If there’s nothing else we can do, I’d be glad to 
pray with you.” 

The man hitched himself up on one elbow and 
with a pained look on his face rasped out, “No, it’s 
too late now; I’m goin’—straight to hell—where I 
belong—and for—goodness sake—don’t torture 
me—by holding out—any hope.” 

Both Dangity and the preacher were shocked 
by the profanity and the reckless abandon of the 
man in the face of death, and the preacher tried 
once more to point him to the Savior. At this he 
began to curse and to swear as he said, “For God’s 
sake—don’t torture me—with that name. When 
I turned—my back on all—that was good— 
I made up my mind—that when my time—came 
—I would die like—a man—and not come—whin¬ 
ing for mercy—at the last minute—and by Gawd 
I’m too—much of a man—to whine now.” He at¬ 
tempted to shake his fist as he said the last words 
but his wasted arm fell helpless as he tumbled 
back on the pillow. 

While they sat and looked at him, unable to 
help him, two of his old pals from the White 
Elephant Cafe pushed into the room and got him 
to assign them his life insurance. They gave him 
a long pull from a bottle of whiskey, and then, 
with a jolly “Brace up now Charlie and die game,” 
they hurried out again. 

Any mention of the future or any promise of 
hope or consolation only seemd to torture him, 
and start him cursing, so they left him alone, 
and next day they learned that he was dead. 

It was a shock to Dangity to find a man who 


266 Romances of the Rugged Road 

wanted to meet his Maker unrepentant and unfor¬ 
given, but he did admire his resignation in stick¬ 
ing to his promise not to whine when he got what 
he acknowledged to be his just dues. He did not 
believe that “while the lamp holds out to burn, 
the vilest sinner may return.” 

He was a man who had spent the last years of 
his life among the sporting places of the gay city. 
He had been a high-roller, and he complained bit¬ 
terly when old pals deserted him in his last days. 
Even the hotel kicked on having him die there, 
but he was too far gone to be moved. The sport¬ 
ing friends shunned him at the last, but then who 
of them cares to be in at the death ? Who wants 
to watch a wicked man die? 

Those pathetic blue eyes, with their appealing 
look, haunted Dangity for many a day. He had 
seen much of the gay life of the city, but here he 
had got a glimpse of another side—the dark side 
—of it. 

The cafes, the theatres, the sporting-houses 
furnished a round of pleasure unequalled any¬ 
where, carrying with them a vivid Epicurean 
charm that made one feel that here was a place 
where folks enjoyed the sensation of living. Life 
was not some gloomy, groping, morbid, unpleas¬ 
ant existence, but a rich, romantic, exuberant 
whirl where the fancies and pleasures were grati¬ 
fied to the limit. 

Into this gay arena there came, of course, jar¬ 
ring realities like the death of Charlie, but the 
laughter and song of the feasters soon drowned 
the wail of the unfortunate and the penitent. 

He liked the happy-go-lucky swing of the big 
town and could easily have stayed indefinitely, 


267 


Two Busy Weeks 

but the pull of home on his heartstrings was 
stronger, so that when the time for sailing came 
he was ready to go. 

The spirit of California suited his vigorous, 
romantic nature, he could enjoy the hearty care¬ 
free friendliness of the feasters, or share in the 
religious fervor of the worshippers; he felt big 
enough to overlook their faults, their sins of 
omission, their disregard for the precepts of pi¬ 
ety, and of the laws of God which they openly 
and flagrantly violated, but yet he was generous 
enough in his judgment to recognize the warm 
Christian charity of those who did try to follow 
the example of the humble Nazarene. 


268 Romances of the Rugged Road 


CHAPTER XVII 
The Romance of the Sea 

It was a jolly company which made up the 
passenger list on the steamer “Good Cheer” when 
she left San Francisco for the run to Panama, 
Central America, or even on to New York, pro¬ 
vided the canal was open when she reached there. 

An elderly man who stood beside Dangity at 
the rail accosted him thus: “Looks like we would 
have a nice trip of it this time; fine-looking crowd 
we have on here to travel with, Pd say.” 

“Yes, I hope we do have a nice trip. This is 
my first one, you know.” 

“ ’Tis eh? Well you won’t be sorry you took 
it. I’ve made it every year for a long time now, 
and it gets better all the time,” his companion in¬ 
formed him good-naturedly. 

“I’ve done a lot of traveling on land, but I’ve 
never tried the water before,” Dangity explained. 

“Well, if you’ve never been on the water before, 
you’ll likely have a sweet time when we cross the 
bar, for she looks a bit choppy out there today.” 
The man smiled at Dangity, who wondered why 
the bar should be any worse than the harbor. 

“Speaking of travel,” his friend continued, “if 
some of those old skinflints who have never seen 
anything in their life would spend a little more 
money on travel, they might loosen up a little 
and enjoy life better.” 


The Romance of the Sea 269 

“How far is it to Panama by this route?” Dan- 
gity asked suddenly. 

“About thirty-five hundred miles, I think.” 

“My, that’s farther than it is to New York!” he 
gasped in surprise. 

“Well, I should say it is, and it’s farther east 
than New York is too.” 

By this time the ship had stuck her nose out 
of the Golden Gate and was leaving San Francisco 
behind. Dangity felt that the curtain was being 
rung down on another important scene in the 
drama of his life. He owed a great deal to Cali¬ 
fornia. He had found his wealth there, and, bet¬ 
ter still, he felt that he had found the Pearl of 
Greatest Price when he dedicated his future to 
whatever Christian service he could render, there 
in Wilson’s study. 

It was with a longing desire to return that he 
watched the city disappear. 

He had often heard of the famous Golden Gate, 
and now he was to have the pleasure of actually 
sailing right through it and seeing it for himself. 
There was surely something romantic in this, and 
he wished again that Jemima and his own folks 
could enjoy this magnificent sight with him, but 
again he was compelled to feast his eyes alone. 

On the north side of the Gate, the Marin county 
hills, reaching a climax in Mount Tamalpais, rise 
precipitously out of the emerald sea and break 
away into a mass of tumbled beauty, while the 
south side is formed of a high table-land ending 
in Seal Rocks, Sutro Heights and the Presidio 
military reservation. On both sides are the forts 
and frowning guns which guard the entrance to 
the most commodious harbor in the world, San 


270 Romances of the Rugged Road 

Francisco Bay. The channel is quite narrow, and 
when the tide is changing there is a very strong 
current running, and when fogs hang low navi¬ 
gation is often difficult. 

In about an hour the stately ship cleared the 
Gate, and took the stiff Pacific breeze in her teeth, 
rolling heavily through the swell on the bar. Near 
the Farallon Islands, she turned south and head¬ 
ed towards the tropics. Many of the passengers 
lost the red flush from their cheeks, and present¬ 
ly sought the seclusion of their cabins, or crowded 
closer to the rail. There are times when one 
wants to be alone—and this was one of them. 

Dangity was no sailor. He admitted it. That 
is, he found it out before the ship had heaved a 
dozen times; he didn’t need any person to tell him 
that. 

The call for supper fell upon deaf ears, but the 
following morning found him in his place at the 
breakfast table, as ravenous as any day he’d rode 
the range. 

The captain was a rotund, jolly, middle-aged 
man with a pair of bushy eyebrows, and a stubby 
goatee. He was a typical deep-sea skipper of the 
old school, and his very presence breathed the air 
and the romance of the sea. 

By some caprice of fortune, Dangity had drawn 
a seat next the skipper at the dining table. The 
first night out, both of them were too busy to 
eat, although they were not both occupied in quite 
the same way; but the next morning they met at 
breakfast. 

They nodded in a perfunctory way and the skip¬ 
per tucked a napkin under his stubby beard while 


The Romance of the Sea 271 

he smiled at Dangity and said, “Sleep pretty good 
last night, sir?” 

“Yes, sir, well—well—I didn’t do so badly,” 
Dangity hesitated, remembering how he rolled 
and tossed most of the night. 

“Been to sea afor-re I suppose ?” This between 
large spoonfuls of hot mush which the skipper 
was transferring to the hold. 

“No, that’s just it; this is my first trial on the 
water,” Dangity admitted reluctantly. A mo¬ 
ment later he got the skipper’s attention again 
when he asked, “I suppose you like the sea, Cap¬ 
tain? That is I imagine you’ve seen a lot of it.” 

“Yes, the sea is all rright, it’s the landlub- 
berrs that tries to control it that makes all the 
trrouble,” he spoke with a heavy Scotch burr in 
his voice, trilling his r’s strongly. 

“I suppose you’ve even seen pirates in your day, 
Captain!” Dangity ventured to remark, hoping 
to draw him into telling some thrilling story. 

He turned a pair of beaming eyes on him as 
he fairly shouted, “Pirrates! pirrates! did you 
say? Why, man alive, it’s me that has seen the 
pirrates! I’ve sailed among them; I’ve fought 
them, but by the holy mackerrel you can shiverr 
my toplights with a belayin’ pin, if there isn’t 
morre pirrates ashorre in these big cities today 
than everr sailed the sea.” 

“I guess they work differently, though, to what 
the old pirates did, don’t they?” Dangity inquired 
eagerly. 

“Different! Well, yes, they arre different. The 
old-time pirrate used to fly the skull and cross- 
bones at the forre-peak so you could tell who they 
werre, but the present pirrate uses bright lights 


272 Romances of the Rugged Road 

and nice signs to catch his trrade, and instead of 
killin’ ya, they just skin ya alive and leave ya 
therre wrrigglin’ on the deck.” 

Finding the old man willing to talk, Dangity 
plied him with questions. 

“I suppose, Captain, you’ve seen a great many 
places in your life!” 

“Places! Nearrly everry porrt in the worrld, 
since I starrted as a wee gaferr frrom Nova Sco¬ 
tia,” he barked. 

“You must have had some interesting times, 
I’ll bet.” 

“They was interrestin’ enough to me when I 
went thrrough them, but they might not interrest 
otherrs so much. 

“Take, forr instance, the time we werre cap- 
turred by pirrates off the Barrbarry coast. That 
was a terrible fight! D’you see that scarr therre 
on me face?” Dangity looked at it and nodded his 
head. “Well, that was put therre by one of the 
rrascals.” 

“I suppose you’ve been on sailing ships too, 
then?” Dangity went on leading him on. 

“Aye, me boy; no fine steamerrs when I starrt¬ 
ed to sail. Men werre rreal sailorrs then; no 
counterr jumpers, norr grrocery clerrks at sea 
then, but rreal sailorrs,” he spoke with an air of 
disgust, sluicing down a generous piece of fried 
ham at the same time. 

“I’ve always liked the sea myself, because it 
always seemed to be such a romantic place,” Dan¬ 
gity confided, admiring the captain’s strong face. 

“Rromance!” he fairly shouted. “Eh, boy, 
therre was rromance in them days, but now it’s 


The Romance of the Sea 273 

scrrub paint worrk, orr shovel coal frrom sun-up 
to sun-down. 

“Take forr instance the storry of Ben Pearrson. 
Ben went away in an Amerrican Clipperr bound 
forr China rround the horrn. Was gone fourrteen 
yearr, sailed everry sea, and come back as rich as 
a duke wi’ one of them black-eyed cannibal 
weemen forr a wife. It would fairrly make yourr 
hairr currl to hearr Ben tell his storry,” he con¬ 
cluded in a burst of enthusiasm, rising to go. 

It was time for him to return to his duties, and 
Dangity was glad that he was seated so close to 
him, and he made up his mind to get all the 
stories he could out of him. 

“Oh boy! won't I draw that old boy out, 
though,” he chuckled. 

After they passed Cape San Lucas, on the lower 
tip of Lower California, the air grew warm and 
balmy, and continued to increase in temperature 
until they reached Panama. Dangity spent all of 
his waking hours on the deck, where he played 
games, or lolled about in the reclining chairs, the 
laziest, sleepiest, dreamiest existence one can 
possibly lead. 

The “Good Cheer” carried a good complement 
of passengers; those who could afford it were 
traveling first cabin, and those who could not 
indulge in this luxury were doing the best they 
could in the steerage. The latter were mostly 
Central American natives who were bound for the 
various countries touched on the voyage. The 
cabin passengers were mostly those who had 
plenty of leisure time on their hands, and were 
taking this method of spending it. 

The crew was made up of Greeks and Mexicans 


274 Romances of the Rugged Road 

in the fire-room, Scandinavians on the deck; Chi¬ 
nese in the saloon and galley; and Americans on 
the bridge and in the engine-room. Some con¬ 
trast, in this motley conglomeration of types, to 
the crew of the historic Mayflower. 

Rounding Cape San Lucas, they crossed the 
Gulf of California and made the first stop at 
Mazatlan, Mexico. 

Making or clearing port is a very important 
operation for a foreign ship here. The average 
Mexican official is all the word “official” implies, 
with a capital 0 at that. The ship must be care¬ 
ful to observe all the rules governing such a pro¬ 
cedure to the letter, and woe be to the Captain 
who thinks that he may lightly overlook them. 
The official comes aboard with his attendants to 
look over the ship’s papers and other little de¬ 
tails, and to sample the contents of the Captain’s 
larder. 

He is generally in full military dress with an 
ample supply of gold braid, ponderous epaulettes, 
a husky sword and an air of importance. If 
everything is satisfactory, he salutes, returns to 
his own “Bouque de vapor” which lists heavily 
as he boards her. They refuse to work overtime 
and many a ship has been forced to cruise off a 
port all night because she was a bit tardy in ar¬ 
riving before sunset. 

After a few days Dangity got acquainted with 
the chief engineer, and got a chance to go below. 
It was a revelation to him as he looked over the 
bewildering maze of valves, levers, cranks, pipes, 
pumps, boilers and machinery of many descrip¬ 
tions. Then, too, the intense heat nearly took his 
breath away. 


275 


The Romance of the Sea 

“How in time can any man stand this? How 
hot is it here anyway ?” he asked heatedly. The 
old chief looked at a thermometer and replied, “A 
hundred and thirty degrees.” 

Hundred and thirty! Holy smoke! Sulphur and 
molasses, let me out of here before I melt!” Just 
then a fireman opened a furnace door, and he 
rushed for the ladder and sought the deck again. 

“Just think of us lazy lubbers lying around up 
here on deck, while those fellows are sweating 
their eyes out down there in that hot hole,” he 
said when they were enjoying the cool breeze 
again. 

“Eh, boy, that’s it; some one has to work if 
the other folks are going to enjoy themselves,” 
the old chief replied in a matter-of-fact way. 

“I’ve seen men come up out of there and jump 
right over the side and go down in the sea before 
now, they were so crazy with the heat,” he went 
on later. 

“Couldn’t they fix things so as to make it more 
pleasant down there, chief?” he asked thought¬ 
fully after listening to his story of the engine- 
room. 

“Well, yes, they could, but it would cost money, 
and who wants to spend money to fix things com¬ 
fortable for the men who have to do the work, 
these days?” 

He sat for some time alone that night after the 
deck was deserted, thinking over the words of 
the chief and of how many things there were 
which seemed to need “fixing.” 

It was quite late when he gave up his dreaming 
and turned in. “I’m glad I got my pile anyhow, 
so I don’t have to depend on any one else to fix 


276 Romances of the Rugged Road 

things for me any more, but if I can help some 
one else I’m willing to try it,” he whistled softly 
looking up at the faithful old moon. 

While he had been sitting there during the eve¬ 
ning, his attention had been attracted by a comely 
young lady who walked past where he sat several 
times. 

The last time around she dropped a cape, which 
fell directly at his feet. He sprang up to replace 
it and was met by the most gracious smile he had 
received since Safrona kissed him. A formal ex¬ 
change of courtesies was all that passed between 
them just then, but each labored under a re¬ 
strained emotion, which later was to become more 
open and pronounced. 

They soon cleared the four ports at which stops 
are made along the coast of Mexico, at Mazatlan, 
San Bias, Manzanillo and at Acapulco. The for¬ 
mer places are all open roadsteads, but Acapulco 
has a fine little harbor, something which is very 
uncommon on the west coast of America. 

At most of these ports, long lines of burros 
may be seen carrying their heavy packs of mer¬ 
chandise either up or down the long winding 
trails which lead back into the country and ter¬ 
minate at the water’s edge, where old-fashioned 
scows whisked about by noisy tugs transport this 
merchandise between ship and shore. 

There is often a heavy ground-swell running in 
these open roadsteads, and ships lying at anchor 
are rolled and tossed until it is well-nigh impos¬ 
sible for the landlubber to keep the decks, and 
each time the ship rolls he wonders whether it 
will ever right itself again, or sometime go right 
on over. 


277 


The Romance of the Sea 

Eating under these trying conditions is the 
greatest of indoor sports. One is apt to find him¬ 
self feeding someone near him, instead of himself, 
or be seen spluttering and gagging as the fork, 
which at one moment was arm’s length away is 
suddenly crammed more than half way down 
one’s throat. 

It was during one of these spectacular perform¬ 
ances that Dangity asked the skipper if there was 
any danger of her tipping over. 

“Danger enough if the cargo shifts,” he 
growled. “Y’ never can tell what’ll happen aboard 
o’ a ship. I remember once I was aboard a wind¬ 
jammer in ’Frisco harborr, and the ship was what 
we call ‘tender,’ that is, she was in ballast ’nd 
just sittin’ on top o’ the water. All to once a 
heavy blow springs up, ’nd you can douse my 
scuppers if the blamed thing didn’t heel right over 
’nd turn turtle. 

“I was paintin’ the for ta’ gallant truck, when 
holy mackerel! if I wasn’t thrown half way across 
San Francisco bay, like a shot out of a cannon, 
well, you can shiver my timbers wi’ a marlin 
spike. She was a new steel ship wi’ steel yards 
and masts ’nd she was top-heavy, bein’ as I said 
in ballast. She went over that quick, the air 
was trapped in her and kept her afloat, ’nd as 
soon as I got the water out of my eyes, I see her 
floatin’ there, bottom up. 

“When we got alongside we could hear some one 
pounding wi’ a hammer on the inside o’ her.” 

“Sulphur and molasses! Couldn’t you get them 
out?” Dangity inquired anxiously. 

“That’s jist what I was a cornin’ to,” the cap¬ 
tain answered, trying to take a bite of a pickle, 


278 Romances of the Rugged Road 

but stuck the end of it in his ear instead. “We 
wanted to save them, but what in the name of 
St. Anthony was we to do? We couldn’t get 
them out through the bottom, ’nd she was too 
deep for them to dive down through the hatches 
and come up outside o’ her, but what could we 
do? My, my! How they did hammer for help, 
’nd we could hear them yell, five o’ them mind 
ya, five men!” 

“Well, what did you do to get them out?” Dan- 
gity insisted excitedly. 

“That’s just it, I’m cornin’ to that now,” the 
old captain explained tantalizingly slow. 

“We sent to a shipyard, ’nd they sent over 
some ship-smiths who cut a hole in her bottom to 
get them out through—” 

“And did you get them ?” Dangity cried eagerly. 

“No, no; that’s the sad part of it. The air all 
rushed out o’ that hole ’nd down she went like a 
ton o’ lead carryin’ all hands wi’ her,” he con¬ 
cluded with a sorry shake of his head. 

“My, my! that was terrible, and them expect¬ 
ing to be saved every minute!” 

“That’s it; you never know when you’re going 
to meet your Maker, when you follow the sea, 
me boy, you never know,” he went on sadly, ris¬ 
ing to go. 

After leaving Mexico, three stops were made 
on the coast of Guatemala, at the ports of Ocos, 
Champerico and San Jose. There were several 
active volcanoes along this part of the coast, and 
at night they could be plainly seen in operation, 
throwing out great streams of fire and smoke 
hundreds of feet into the air. Or perhaps there 
were rivers of molten lava rolling and tumbling 


The Romance of the Sea 279 

down the red sides of the towering peaks which 
marked the presence of the craters. 

Dangity sat outside far into the night watching 
this gorgeous display of the wonders of nature. 
He remembered reading in the Book, “They that 
go down to the sea in ships, that see great won¬ 
ders in the deep, these see the works of Thy hand 
and the wonders which Thou hast made,” and he 
spent long hours trying to define God and nature. 

Several times he had met the young lady who 
had so conveniently dropped her cape that eve¬ 
ning, and they exchanged greetings, but nothing 
more. She was rather shy, and he was on his 
good behavior. Having escaped all the wiles of 
women up to the present time, he was anxious to 
complete his contract, and come back to his home 
town as untrammeled as he had left it. So there 
was nothing to excite more than a passing inter¬ 
est in either. But, as some one has said, “there 
is many a slip twixt the cup and the lip,” and that 
slip was to come soon. 

The passengers had been allowed to go ashore 
sightseeing at every port until the ship reached 
San Jose, and nothing unusual had happened. 
There had recently been a storm blowing here 
which had left a very heavy swell rolling, so much 
so that the captain refused to allow the passen¬ 
gers to go ashore. The old ship was rolling and 
pitching on her beam ends; but some of the more 
restless ones insisted on going anyhow. 

“Why, Captain! we just must see this place. 
It is one of the most important towns on the 
whole coast,” the more insistent ones demanded. 

The captain yielded against his will, saying, 
“All right, if you must you must, that's all there 


280 Romances of the Rugged Road 

is to it! Boatsw’n make ready the landin’ gear; 
there’s some ladies here es wants ta go ashore!” 
He ordered, with a twinkle in his eyes. “Mind 
you make it safe, for ther’s a terrible sea runnin’ 
the day, mind you.” 

“Aye, aye sir,” the boatswain replied, blowing 
his whistle for the crew to make ready the land¬ 
ing gear. This was a crude wooden cage which 
was swung over the ship’s side from the end of 
a hoisting-boom, and was raised and lowered by 
the steam winch, to the scows which were moored 
alongside. 

When both the ship and the scows are pitching 
violently, it requires an alert mind and a pair of 
nimble feet to make the transfer from one to the 
other gracefully, for the cage may be resting on 
the scow one minute, and the next be dangling 
thirty feet in the air, perhaps to drop the next 
moment with a crash as the scow also bobs up 
to meet it. Yes, it requires some dexterity to 
keep one’s feet. 

Dangity and the young lady happened to be in 
the cage at the same time, and he rather smiled 
at her timidity, noticing how she gripped the 
sides of it and held on as they were swung out 
clear of the ship. The sailors grabbed the cage 
as it neared the scow and attempted to steady it. 

Whether it was her timidity or the strange 
ways of fate which caused it, the cage was jerked 
away and the lady was suddenly thrown over¬ 
board. 


Roped at Last 


281 


CHAPTER XVIII 
Roped at Last 

The hilarity which had in a manner attended 
the landing, now turned to anxiety, for there was 
a heavy undertow running, and the water was 
very rough. 

The captain, who had been watching operations 
from the deck of the ship, now bellowed loudly to 
the sailors, “Look lively there, you swabs, and 
save that gurrl,” at the same time heaving a 
life-buoy over the side on the end of a line. 

Seeing how ineffective their efforts were he 
roared again, “Get in there you lubbers, and do 
something; look lively there now orr that gurrl 
will be lost. Oh dearr, oh dearr, did you ever see 
the like o' that?” he moaned as the efforts of the 
sailors to get her out were unavailing. 

It was at this juncture that Dangity leaped 
into the water, and succeeded in getting a hold 
of her clothes, at the same time missing the line 
which had been thrown to him. 

He was a fairly good swimmer, and the girl was 
also, but they were jammed in against the scows 
in such a way that the ability to swim did not 
count for much. The waves caught and slammed 
them against the side so hard that it looked as 
if they would be dashed to pieces. The girl was 
badly frightened and clung to Dangity like grim 


282 Romances of the Rugged Road 

death and there was danger of her dragging them 
both under—not the first time a man has been 
pulled under by a woman. 

“Don’t hold on so tight! Let go of me!” he 
shouted at her savagely, trying to break her hold 
on his arms and keep afloat at the same time. 
There was now great danger of them being 
jammed between the scows and the ship as the 
waves rolled and pitched them together. Ex¬ 
citement ran high. All the passengers and crew 
were shouting orders and rushing here and 
there and trying to help the young couple in the 
water. At last a sailor with a line on him jumped 
in and succeeded in getting hold of Dangity and 
all of them were drawn to the side of the scow 
and pulled out of the water, soaking wet both in¬ 
side and out, for they had shipped large quanti¬ 
ties of salt water which kept them spitting and 
gagging for an hour afterwards. 

It was a narrow escape, but aside from the 
overload of water, and numerous cuts and bruises 
from the barnacles which covered the bottom of 
the scows, they were uninjured, although it did 
take the starch out of Dangity’s white duck suit, 
and the lady’s hair was sadly deranged. 

They were both quickly taken back on board 
again, where everything was done to make them 
comfortable. The passengers crowded around and 
congratulated Dangity for his bravery, and some 
of the more ardent and elderly ladies actually 
kised him; but the young lady fled to her cabin 
without indulging her emotions. 

“Good worrk, me boy, good worrk,” the old 
skipper shouted, grasping his hand as soon as he 
reached the deck. “My, my, if that girl had been 


Roped at Last 283 

lost, oh dearr, oh dearr, her ghost would haunt 
me to my dying day,” he continued. 

“I did the best I could, but if she’d got under 
one of those scows, I think it would’ve been all off 
with ’er,” Dangity admitted meekly when he 
could get a word in edgeways. 

The captain declared that if it hadn’t been for 
fear of striking the scow he would have jumped 
from the deck himself in order to save the girl. 

Dangity changed his clothes and went ashore 
anyway, but whether this was too long an opera¬ 
tion for the girl, or whether she had enough of 
the sea for one day, she did not put in an appear¬ 
ance again until after the ship sailed. 

That evening, as Dangity was sitting on deck 
enjoying the sunset, she came past where he was 
seated, whereupon as soon as she saw him she 
went up and offered her hand to him, and thanked 
him for his gallant service of rescue. He arose 
immediately and accepted her thanks in a more or 
less confused manner, not being accustomed to 
have people extol his virtues right to his face, as 
she did. He offered her his chair, which she 
accepted, and then drew another one alongside of 
it, and in a few moments they were lost to their 
surroundings. 

Thrown together so abruptly in such a spec¬ 
tacular and, one might also say, endearing man¬ 
ner, as they had been, it was but natural that 
they should have a growing interest in each other. 
They exchanged names and addresses and gave 
each other something of a history of their lives, 
up to date; of course, the future was still ahead 
of them. 

They sat rather late into the night enjoying 


284 Romances of the Rugged Road 

each other’s company. There was a romantic 
streak in each of them, which persuaded them to 
take all the advantage possible out of their strange 
adventure. They were sure Old Man Destiny had 
a hand in their affairs, and for the present at 
least they were willing to assist him in whatever 
plans he might have for them. 

Before turning in that night, Dangity sat for 
a long time on the edge of his bunk, thinking 
over the strange events of the day, and wonder¬ 
ing what the outcome of the matter would be. He 
mused to himself when he remembered the charm 
he had felt. “I’ve met some nice people in my 
time, but that girl is the finest I’ve seen yet.” 
Poor helpless fellow, his feet were slipping and 
he didn’t know it. The more he thought of the 
girl, the more he liked her. 

It has long been said that “love is blind,” but 
somehow it seems to see a lot of things that other 
folks overlook. It is alive to virtue but blind to 
faults. Perhaps it is well that this is so, for, if 
it were not, the unattractive world would be de¬ 
populated waiting for the enchanted wedding- 
bells to ring. 

From this time on these two became more and 
more drawn toward each other, until each suc¬ 
ceeding day found them always in each other’s 
company. 

There is one peculiar feature about a love af¬ 
fair on a ship, and that is the rapidity with which 
it often develops. Folks bump into each other at 
every turn, there is ample time to mope and 
dream, and keeping company, as we understand 
it, really becomes a sort of “continuous perform¬ 
ance.” 


285 


Roped at Last 

Dangity was at first determined that this 
friendship should never become more than that, 
but, like the sailors who persisted in sailing near 
the enchanted Isle, they hovered around until 
they became powerless to resist the magical music 
of the melodious Sirens, and were thus lured to 
their doom. 

When alone he had the best of intentions, but 
when in the presence of this new enchantress he 
began to think life empty without her, and his 
good resolutions were forgotten. 

He had boasted long and often, but Master 
Cupid has a way of weaving his subtle spell about 
his victims so coyly and so well that all suspicion 
is allayed until the accumulation of tiny threads 
at last become an unbreakable cord. The strands 
of the rope were being spun separately, but never¬ 
theless they were in the weaving. He devises a 
new method of shooting his arrows for every vic¬ 
tim, so that the most careful are sometimes mor¬ 
tally wounded when they least suspect an attack. 

Dangity was contracting a malady as old as the 
race and as incurable as leprosy. The preacher 
or the priest can more often prescribe for it than 
the doctor, but some folks would rather remain 
sick than take the remedy. 

A few mornings after the rescue, when he 
seemed to be in a very cheerful mood, Dangity 
met the skipper at breakfast, who greeted him 
with a hearty, '‘Well, well, my boy, how are you 
this mornin'? 

My, but yon was a bonnie lassie you saved 
there; you surely did act mighty quick my boy!” 

“Why—er—yes, she isn’t so bad,” he managed 
to stammer with apparent confusion. He was 


286 Romances of the Rugged Road 

surprised, himself, that he should be so plainly 
embarrassed. 

The old skipper ordered his breakfast, at the 
same time taking full cognizance of Dangity’s 
confusion, while he went on talking, “Ah yes, 
yon gurrl will make a bonnie wife forr someone. 
If I was only youngerr I’d set me cap forr herr 
myself, and mind ye I’ve seen a lot of wemen in 
me day too, mind ya,” casting significant glances 
at the young man before him. 

Most every morning now, the conversation 
drifted into the same channel, but Dangity was 
not very talkative, lately. 

After he had gone out on deck to meet his lady 
love, the old captain would look after him and 
sigh, “Weel, weel, there’s somethin’ wrang wi’ 
that chap this mornin’. I’m afeered that yon las¬ 
sie has stole his heart, or else I’m a dufferr,” he 
would repeat as he watched them strolling up and 
down the deck. 

As I said, Dangity was snared when least pre¬ 
pared to resist an attack. 

Rehearsing some of the romantic adventures 
of his life resulted in completely captivating the 
mind of his listener. “Oh my, what a wonderful 
life you have had! And so romantic. My just 
think of all the wonderful things you have seen, 
and the way you have helped others makes you 
a real knight-errant, don’t you know!” 

Not wishing to take any undue credit to him¬ 
self, he quickly replied, “No, no; nothing like 
that. I’m something like Roosevelt; I just hap¬ 
pened to be around where things were going on, 
and that gave me a chance to take a hand in them. 
You know that’s what he said when some one 


Roped at Last 287 

asked him how he came to be mixed up in so many 
important things.” 

She would not accept this modest disclaimer on 
his part as to his achievements, and insisted that 
it was his courage that had given him success; 
but he would have none of it, and replied, “I guess 
I was born under a lucky star, somehow.” 

“It took more than just pure luck, it took pluck 
to do what you have done,” she insisted. 

The admiring eyes she turned on him left no 
doubt in his mind that she considered him just 
about her ideal, and one must admit that he made 
a very attractive personality, with youth, good 
looks, sociability and wealth all adding their trea¬ 
sure to those lesser talents which he possessed. 

The young lady was on her way to the East 
to attend college because her parents wished her 
to complete her training there, he had learned 
from her that first night when they were telling 
each other about themselves. 

Dangity felt that he was sadly lacking in the 
matter of education, at least of the book sort, and 
he said to her one day, “That’s one thing I lack, 
and that is a college education. I’m afraid you 
are too cultured and refined to want to waste any 
time with a rough, ignorant stick like me.” 

“Don’t you ever think so. Why, how foolish 
you talk! As if a college could add anything to 
what you have already accomplished. Why, the 
very idea for you to talk like that!” 

This from her in a highly indignant tone, with 
raised eyebrows, and a stamp of her foot. She 
was not content to allow this remark to pass, or 
to allow it to stand as a barrier between them, so 
a little later she expressed herself again, “I’d 


288 Romances of the Rugged Road 

rather have a real man like you are, who is big 
enough and brave enough to do real things, than 
the most cultured man in the world, and don’t 
you ever make any excuses to me about not being 
educated, or I’ll be real angry with you.” 

If Pater and Mater were laying any plans for 
the future of their vivacious and romantic daugh¬ 
ter they were destined to be disappointed, as most 
parents are who plan too definitely for restless 
young lives. Destiny was engaged in muddling 
up the program for more than one person in this 
little romance. 

So much were this lovelorn pair in each other’s 
company that the other passengers began to nod 
their heads knowingly as they watched them 
promenading up and down the deck, or saw two 
steamer chairs huddled closely together, and oc¬ 
cupied by two persons whose heads looked like one. 

If love really is blind, it is blind to surround¬ 
ings, for the occupants of these chairs were quite 
unmindful of the watchful eyes that were thus 
focused upon them. And so the little drama wig¬ 
gled on its way, quite in ignorance of another that 
was being worked out, back in Slowtown. 

As another little token of the trend of events, 
Dangity had succeeded in having the seating ar¬ 
ranged so that his young lady friend might be 
seated next to him at the table. It was necessary 
to convince the steward that this was advisable, 
but Dangity had the necessary elements of persua¬ 
sion, and so the change was fixed up. This almost 
led to a serious complication a little later, but 
what did either of them care for eventualities? 

This came about in this way. The boatswain 
had made it his business to gather up a collection 


289 


Roped at Last 

of monkeys, parrots, anteaters and other animals 
on each trip, and sell them to a dealer in wild 
animals in San Francisco. 

One day just as dinner was in progress, a big 
chimpanzee broke away and led the ship’s crew a 
merry chase over the ship, trying to capture him. 
In his mad efforts to escape he darted into the 
dining saloon, and, not knowing where else to 
make for, he leaped right onto the table at which 
Dangity was seated, and started down the center 
of it, for the other end. 

Was there ever such a sight? 

Soup, vegetables and victuals of all kinds were 
sent hurling and splashing in all directions, as 
men yelled, and women screamed and fainted in 
abject terror and consternation, as the bewildered 
denizen of the forest continued on his path of 
desolation. He was entirely rude in his table man¬ 
ners. 

The captain saw him heading straight for him, 
and at once sprang to his feet, and waved his arms 
at the brute, shouting at the top of his voice, 
“Belay there! you bloomin’ heathen, belay there! 
Get outa that, get outa that!” 

But whether the chimpanzee thought he recog¬ 
nized a relative, or whether he thought the cap¬ 
tain was calling him, he made straight for him, 
leaping onto his astonished head, and thus making 
his escape through an open hatch just above him, 
leaving the captain choking and gagging over 
some hot potatoes which he had swallowed pre¬ 
maturely, in his excitement. 

Seeing what was coming, Dangity’s lady friend 
gave a little scream of fright, and proceeded to 
faint dead away, as Dangity’s strong arm almost 


290 Romances of the Rugged Road 

immediately encircled her waist. A damp hand¬ 
kerchief applied to her forehead, and a few ca¬ 
resses, were sufficient, however, to resore her to 
health and consciousness, and she was soon smil¬ 
ing into his anxious face. 

Beware of those who take to fainting in con¬ 
venient places, for it is sometimes a sign that 
their case is becoming well developed. 

I knew a young fellow who became attached to 
a fainting girl in Houston, Texas, and finally mar¬ 
ried her. She never took any more weak spells 
after that, and in fact she was too wide awake to 
suit him, for he found it necessary to take to the 
woods to get away from her terrible tantrums. 
His last word of advice written to me from South 
America was, whatever you do, never get mar¬ 
ried, and especially to a girl that faints. 

This must have hastened matters considerably, 
for it was only a few evenings after this when 
they were sitting out on the romantic deck, under 
the romantic old moon, watching the romantic 
coastline passing before them, that she asked 
Dangity if he had seen any members of the cloth, 
among the passengers. To their dismay neither 
of them had detected any one who looked to be 
even remotely connected with that profession, or 
who was capable of acting in a sacramental 
capacity. 

Often, however, when the world looks darkest, 
a ray of light may be projected from an unex¬ 
pected source. It so happened that the very next 
day, as they sat looking into each other’s dreamy 
eyes as usual, two sailors who were scrubbing 
paint work drew near along the deck. 

“What d’ ya say, Oscar,” said one, looking 


291 


Roped at Last 

rather sidewise towards where the couple were 
sitting, “d’ya think the Old Man will hev to splice 
any one this trip?” 

“Waal, I wouldn’t say, but the old fella can sure 
do gud yob at that beesness.” “Yas, you bet. 
I ’member one time he roon cleer ta sea yust to 
feex up two what wanted to git marry.” 

“Why don’t they git marry down here, Ole?” 
“Waal, some don't like this foreign beesness,” Ole 
replied. “You don’t think he roon dis yere sheep 
cleer to sea, yust to marry two peeples do ya, 
Ole?” 

“Yaas, he would. It cost some penny, I tal ya, 
but that fella he sure had some what you call it, 
dough, and he want marry under the United 
States flag, ’nd the 01’ Man he roon dis sheep out¬ 
side tree mile leemit and then he do eet.” 

By this time the sailors had worked along past 
where our friends were sitting, and believe me, 
they had been getting an earful. 

“Eet must be what you call eet, romantic, ta 
git marry like that,” Oscar suggested. 

“Waal, I dunno about the romance part, but it 
sure does help ta make it interestin’, ’nd we all 
sure ban hed one gude feed by it, ’nd then there 
ban moosic, ’nd dancin’, ’nd everybuddy hav gude 
time I tell ya.” 

Whether the sailors thought there might be 
a chance to repeat on the good time, or not, I do 
not know, but it was evident that they had hopes 
of creating a desire for some such performance. 

As it was, their disinterested advice had not 
fallen upon entirely deaf ears, for, had one been 
able to have listened in on the conversation that 


292 Romances of the Rugged Road 

followed, valuable information might have been 
obtained. 

“All right, dear; you speak to the captain and 
see what he says about it, and if he is willing, I 
am,” a young lady whispered to a young man that 
night, as the old moon looked down and smiled as 
he has done upon thousands of others through 
the long years he has been watching over the ac¬ 
tions of men. 

Whether Dangity knew it or not he was step¬ 
ping into a peck of rouble. But this comes from 
the common error of thinking that a young heart 
of attachable age can long remain in the presence 
of a besieging influence without falling a victim 
of the attack, unless the affections be centered 
upon some other object. In other words, it is dif¬ 
ficult to float around amid a maze of attracting 
forces, and expect that the magnetic needle of 
the affections will continue to occupy a neutral 
position. Sooner or later it is bound to swing 
violently towards one or the other of these forces. 

Forgetting his previous strong resolutions to 
steer his own course unassisted, he was now pre¬ 
paring to sign up a sailing partner that might even 
prove to become the master of his little craft for 
life. 

“What fools we mortals be!” 

It seemed for the time being that only the pres¬ 
ent mattered—the future was still in the distance 
—and under the sweet influence of this truth, as 
the old ship swished along through the sparkling 
tropical seas, a fervent, foolish youth promised to 
see the “Old Man” in the morning and see if he 
would be generous enough to perform another 
ceremony in the interests of suffering humanity. 


293 


Roped at Last 

By this time the ship had cleared from Corinto, 
her last port of call before reaching Panama, and 
would soon be at her destination. 

True, Dangity had not wormed as many stories 
out of the skipper as he expected to, but since he 
had found more absorbing company he was to be 
excused for this delinquency. 

The next morning when he entered his cabin 
and the door was closed, the old man motioned him 
to a seat, saying, ‘‘Sit doon, lad, and tell me all 
about it.” 

“Tell you all about what?” said Dangity, with 
a mockish grin on his face. 

“Why, all about what’s on your mind, of 
course.” 

“I guess you’ve noticed that I’ve been pretty 
much interested in that girl lately, haven’t you, 
Captain?” he blurted out, eyeing the old man 
critically. 

“Aye, lad, I’ve been watchin’ you for some time 
now, ’nd it seems ta me I can verry nearr guess 
what you’re goin’ ta say,” he chuckled merrily, 
lighting up his old pipe and leaning back in his 
chair. 

“You marry people on here sometimes, don’t 
you, Captain?” The old man tossed his head as 
if to say, I told you so, and then he spoke up 
soberly. 

“Yes, lad, I can do it, but I’m no meenister, 
mind you, but I can do a job like that if I have to.” 

“Well, this is absolutely necessary; we can’t 
wait any longer,” the impetuous youth replied; 
but youth was ever impetuous, it must be served 
at once. 

Dangity and the captain talked for some time, 


294 Romances of the Rugged Road 

and when he emerged from the cabin it was to 
hunt up the other party to the contract, who was 
waiting anxiously for him in the corner of the 
deck which they had made their own, and impart 
to her the good news. 

That day the ship’s company were a tremor of 
excitement, for it was rumored on very good au¬ 
thority that there was to be a wedding on board 
before she reached Panama. After this the cook 
and the baker were seen to be extra busy, and 
curious folks were barred from the cook-house 
and galley. 

This rumor put all hands on the tip-toe of ex¬ 
pectancy, for it was rumored that the groom was 
wealthy, and that no expense would be spared 
to make the affair a memorable one. 

Dangity had always abhorred great church wed¬ 
dings, and formal affairs where the principals 
were put on exhibition like prize stock at a coun¬ 
try fair, so it was agreed that this affair should 
be as simple as the ceremony would permit. 

Here was the boy who had blowed and boasted 
all his life, meekly submitting to this new ordeal, 
simply because a timid young thing had the mis¬ 
fortune to go and fall into the water at an op¬ 
portune moment. As Jemima and Safrona both 
said, “How easy you’ll fall when the right one 
comes along!” 

The ceremony was almost as simple as the 
young things who took part in it. The bride did 
look fresh and sweet, though, while the groom was 
as handsome as a cavalier, and while the old ship 
plowed through the rippling sea, there under the 
stars and the pale light of the silver moon (the 
girl wanted the moon to see), Captain Duncan 


295 


Roped at Last 

McKinnon, dressed in his newest uniform, and 
wearing his broadest smile, performed the simple 
ceremony which made Dangity Fay and Clarissa 
Maud Weatherspoon man and wife. 

Many crowded forward to offer congratulations 
and to kiss the bride, but after the captain and 
Dangity had tasted of the golden nectar she was 
borne to the cabin, where a sumptuous banquet 
was served to all, while music and dancing mingled 
with the good cheer until dawn. 


296 Romances of the Rugged Road 


CHAPTER XIX 
Rough Sailing 

The next day the ship came to anchor in the 
harbor of Panama. It was learned that a slide 
had closed the canal for navigation, so it would 
be necessary for the passengers to go ashore and 
go across the Isthmus by train and take another 
ship to New York. 

Dangity and his bride were given a fine sendoff 
by the Captain and all the ship’s company, who 
would not soon forget the wonderful night of 
feasting and pleasure which marked the celebra¬ 
tion of the wedding. 

They were glad when the train pulled out of 
Panama, for it was very hot and unpleasant there. 

It was not until the summit of the divide was 
reached and the cool Atlantic breezes met them 
that they began to enjoy the trip. It is fort- 
seven miles across this neck of land, and it is said 
to have taken a life for every tie in the railroad 
track, to build it, so deadly were the tropical 
fevers which infested this region, before the 
American sanitary army got to work here. Now 
it is quite healthful. 

The trip along the route of the great canal was 
of absorbing interest to Dangity, who always was 
partial to engineering projects of great skill and 
magnitude. 


297 


Rough Sailing 

When they reached Colon, it was found that 
the ship which was to carry them to New York 
was not yet loaded with her cargo of coffee and 
tropical fruits, so they were compelled to spend 
two days in this sleepy, dreamy old southern sea¬ 
port town. Dangity wondered sometimes if the 
whole affair was not a dream. He was to have 
a rude awakening. 

When they were at last alone in their own cabin, 
Mrs. Fay looked at her smiling husband and ex¬ 
claimed, 

“Well, isn’t it romantic to think of the way we 
were married on that old ship there last night!” 

“Yes, I can’t believe it is true, it all seems 
like something I have read, or dreamed about.” 

“Oh, my goodness! What will Dad and Mom 
say when they find it out! Won’t they be sur¬ 
prised, though!” Clarissa ejaculated, dancing 
around the cabin. 

“Well, it won’t do them any good to object now; 
it’s too late for anything like that,” Dangity 
vowed, although it was evident that he had no 
idea of the sort of man Clarissa’s father was. If 
he thought that he was a man who would let any¬ 
thing which he had not been consulted about pass 
lightly, he was very much mistaken, and had a lot 
to learn about human nature, or at least Scotch 
nature, which is not at all the same. 

“You must take me home to California some 
time soon, for I want them to see what a fine 
husband I have,” she exclaimed coquettishly, 
shaking a finger at him. 

“I’m ready to go anywhere with you, dear,” he 
came back gallantly. 

The trip across the Caribbean sea and up the 


298 Romances of the Rugged Road 

coast was one long to be remembered. Old sailors 
said they could not remember when it had been 
so rough. Hatches were battened down, ventila¬ 
tors were covered up, and even then the seas 
which swept the ship from stem to stern found 
their way down below. Every one was shaken 
with fear for their own safety; even the mate, 
who had sailed for years, was deathly sick. He 
was a big, fat German, and as he stood by the rail 
feeding the fish, and looking like the fag end of 
the night before, the captain came along and slap¬ 
ped him on the back, exclaiming, “What! You’re 
not sick, are you, Gus?” 

Gus turned a pair of pathetic eyes on him as 
he replied sarcastically, “Seek, seek, did you say? 
No, I am not seek. What you tink? You tink I 
do dis for fun?” No, Gus wasn’t going through 
that ordeal for fun. 

After passing Cuba the storm abated, the 
hatches were opened again, and the passengers 
were allowed the decks. The good weather did 
not last long, however, for when they arrived oif 
Cape Hatteras they ran into a nor’easter that was 
as bad as the blow in the Caribbean, only it was 
much colder and accompanied with a drizzling 
rain which made it very unpleasant. 

No one was allowed the decks, and in fact few 
wanted them anyway. The cooks and waiters had 
a vacation, for most of the passengers could not 
look a menu card in the face, let alone eat any¬ 
thing that was on it. 

The old packet rolled and heaved, until an old 
colored man who lay in his bunk in the steerage 
buried his head in his blanket and cried, “Roll, 


Rough Sailing 299 

Jordan, roll! Roll, Jordan roll! I don’t mind 
dyin’ Lord, but I hates to git wet.” 

Cape Hatteras is the roughest place on the At¬ 
lantic coast in a blow, due to the meeting of the 
Gulf Stream and the Labrador Drift off this place; 
so no matter which way the wind blows it sets up 
a terrific sea. 

Clarissa was deathly sick. 

“Is there anything I can do for you, dear?” 
Dangity asked her, raising her head up from the 
pillow where it had lain for two days. 

“No, dear, nothing at all, unless you can stop 
the rolling of this old ship, that’s all I’ll ask you 
to do,” she replied weakly with an effort to smile. 

If there is anything more than another that 
will take the joy out of life, it is a good dose of 
seasickness. At first the victim is afraid he is 
going to die, and later he is afraid he won’t. 

There was nothing Dangity could do to prevent 
the heaving of the ship, but he did do all in his 
power to make Clarissa more comfortable. He 
was proving to her that “the bravest are the 
tenderest, the kind the ones who dare.” 

Both the wind and the sea were cutting up all 
sorts of tantrums; when suddenly the lookout in 
the crow’s nest shouted down to the bridge, “A 
sail in distress on her port bow sir!” 

“Where away?” the cry came back. “On the 
port quarter, abaft the form’st, sir.” 

All hands turned their gaze in this direction, 
while the officer of the watch turned his glass in 
the direction of a sailing ship smashing herself 
to pieces on Alligator reef. 

The steamer slowed down at once and prepared 
to hove to, although in the heavy sea which was 


300 Romances of the Rugged Road 

running it looked as though it would be impossible 
to render any assistance, but the captain went 
aloft to see what he could make out of the wreck. 
From this vantage point he could see the remains 
of a three-masted ship, hard and fast on the reef, 
with several people still clinging to her rigging. 

It was a grave situation, and the captain was 
confronted with the safety of his own ship in 
the heavy sea, but he was a typical western ocean 
sailor, who had sailed the Atlantic until “every 
hair on his head was a rope-yarn, and every finger 
on his hand was a marlinspike,” so to speak, and 
he could not bear to think of leaving these poor 
unfortunates to perish in this terrible sea, for 
perish they must, unless help could be brought 
to them at once. 

Dangity was as much interested in the news of 
the wreck as any one, and he determined to do 
anything in his power to save them, but what 
could he do? He made his way to the captain and 
offered a reward if he would attempt the rescue. 
This was unnecessary, for the captain had already 
decided what to do. 

“Charlie Nesbit never passed up a ship yet that 
was in trouble, ’nd we ain’t agoin’ to pass this 
one,” he shouted to the first mate, as he climbed 
down and gave orders to swing the ship about and 
stand by to render what aid she could. 

“Looks like we can get a boat to ’er, Cap’in, 
if we can only get enough hands to man ’er,” the 
mate spoke up. “Call for volunteers,” the Captain 
ordered. 

Dangity had come up on deck and happened to 
be near when the mate sang out, “How many ’o 
you swabs ’ill pull an oar over ta that wreck, 


301 


Rough Sailing 

there? We got to save them poor devils ef we 
can, boys. I’ll go myself for one,” he continued, 
stepping out in front of the rest on the deck. 

There was a reluctance on the part of those 
present to make the venture, for the sea looked 
very uninviting, and most of the sailors were not 
inclined to take the chance. However, there were 
four men, besides the mate, who volunteered. 
Dangity felt impelled to offer his services. He 
didn’t know a thing about the sea, but he could 
not stand idly by and see a bunch of helpless peo¬ 
ple perish without making an effort to save them. 

He rushed down to the cabin where Clarissa 
lay and said to her, “Say, girl, there’s a lot of 
people hanging to a wreck right off here to one 
side of us, and I want to go out and help to save 
them.” “Why, Dangity, you don’t know anything 
about the water! What in the world could you 
do in a boat, and anyway what in the world would 
I ever do if you got drowned ? Oh, don’t go!” 

“Oh, that don’t matter—I mean some one would 
take care of you, you’re young yet—” he stam¬ 
mered, “’nd I can learn enough about a boat to 
be of some help.” 

“Well, yes, go on; but I—I—think it’s rather 
mean of you to go and leave me all alone though,” 
she persisted rather faintly. “That’s some folks’ 
idea of being selfish,” he muttered to himself as 
he mounted the deck. 

“I’d like to take a hand in this, sir,” he shouted 
to the mate as he was swinging the lifeboat clear 
of the davits. 

“Why—what do you know about a boat ? Ever 
been in one?” 


302 Romances of the Rugged Road 

“Y-yes,” he replied stoutly, trying hard to re¬ 
member when it had been. 

“Well, you’re big enough anyhow to pull a good 
oar, and somehow I like your style, so just duck 
inta one o’ them oilskins ’nd sou’westers there, 
’nd we’ll shove off, for we haven’t a minute to 
lose.” 

To any one who has tried to launch a boat from 
a ship when the sea is on a rampage, the danger¬ 
ous work that this little crew had undertaken will 
be apparent. 

The skipper had swung the ship around so as 
to give them all the advantage of her lee that was 
possible, but even with this it looked several times 
as though they would be swamped before they 
could get her clear of the launching-tackle. But 
they managed to get her squared away, and were 
soon bobbing up and down on the angry sea like 
a cork. Dangity had never rowed a large boat 
before, and sometimes before he could swing his 
oar clear a heavy sea would catch the end of it, 
and throw him back off the seat. If there ever 
was a time when his strength stood him in good 
stead, it was now. 

It was a long hard pull over to the barque, but 
they finally reached her, and then the work of 
getting the crew off was even harder, but after 
a desperate struggle, during which they were all 
well drenched, they succeeded in transferring 
what was left of the ill-fated crew to the lifeboat. 
This was seven men, and the captain’s wife and 
daughter, a girl of about sixteen. 

It was fortunate for them that the lookout had 
picked them up, for some ten others had given 


Rough Sailing 303 

up and had fallen off into the sea; as it was, the 
remainder were almost exhausted. 

Through the heaving waves the passengers and 
crew of the steamer watched the little boat as 
it rose and fell on the bosom of the heaving water. 
Sometimes they wondered if it would rise again 
when it had been out of sight an extra long time, 
but she always rose on the crest of the next wave. 

Clarissa ventured on deck, and as she looked 
out over the foaming billows and watched how 
they broke over the ship, she admired Dangity 
more than ever for his great courage in offering 
his help. 

She was sorry she had seemed so heartless, and 
she promised herself to ask his forgiveness when 
he came back. 

The passengers of the ship sent up a cheer as 
the mate worked the little craft alongside. The 
work of getting people on board was more difficult 
than the launching had been, for the boat was 
now much deeper in the water, and the crew 
were well-nigh exhausted from the long, hard pull. 

The captain’s skillful handling of the ship kept 
the boat pretty well in her lee, until the landing 
was carried out and the “last galoot was aboard,” 
so to speak. 

Dangity’s hands were sore and blistered by the 
rowing, due to the easy life he had lived for the 
past few weeks, but he felt happy at having done 
his duty. The two women threw their arms about 
Dangity’s neck and kissed him, doing the same 
for all who had taken part in the rescue. 

Clarissa was really proud of her husband, al¬ 
though she did look daggers at the women during 
the kissing act, and, not to be outdone, she gave 


304 Romances of the Rugged Road 

him a good one herself, although that was as far 
as she went on the list of rescuers. 

But when they were alone she told him he 
must not take part in any more rescue parties, 
“especially if there are women to be saved,” she 
added shaking her finger at him reprovingly. 

“Well, you know that’s what I did for you,” he 
reminded her, slyly, shaking his head. 

“Oh, you dear boy, of course it was, and I’m 
a real piker to make fun of you this way. Won’t 
you forgive me for even appearing to be so selfish, 
even if I was only fooling,” she cried, as she threw 
her arms around him, while tears came into her 
eyes, showing that she repented of her attempt 
to upbraid him, even in jest, for his heroic sacri¬ 
fice. 

“There, there now, dear, you’re nervous over 
your seasickness yet. I’ll keep right on rescuing 
women just the same, just to show you that I 
did not take your scolding seriously,” he spoke 
up soothingly, patting her head. 

Clarissa was afraid that in some way she would 
lose the prize she had rescued from the wheel 
of fortune, and she had good reason for her fears, 
too, although she did not know it yet. 

Some one else had a prior first mortgage on 
Dangity Fay, and this was liable to be foreclosed. 

While Dangity stood the voyage well, his bride 
was deathly sick. The air below was foul, stifling 
and ill-smelling, owing to the necessity of keeping 
everything battened down, and, oh my! how she 
longed for a breath of good pure air. 

“Thees more air and less ventilation aboard a 
ship in a storm than any place in the world,” 
according to the old stewardess who took care of 


Rough Sailing 305 

Clarissa. “And of all the smells that iver I smelt 
it’s aboard a ship like this,” she continued. 

It was not until they had actually landed, and 
were resting quietly in their room at a hotel, that 
Dangity fully realized that he was back in the 
East once more, and for the first time he began 
to wonder how the folks at home would receive 
him and his new bride. His own coming would 
be a rousing surprise, he knew; and then to bring 
a wife with him—he was sure they would not be 
expecting anything like that. 

They were like two children as they rushed 
about the city. They had a great deal of shopping 
to do, both for themselves and for the friends 
whom Dangity was planning to surprise. They 
each purchased several new outfits, and then the 
greatest collection of things imaginable for the 
others. 

“My conscience!” Dangity exclaimed when he 
saw the piles of stuff that Clarissa had ordered 
sent up, “we’ll have to buy a lot of new trunks to 
carry all of this junk.” 

“Why, you silly boy!” she shouted in return 
when his purchases began to arrive, “what in the 
name of goodness are you ever going to do with 
all that pile of stuff?” 

“Well, you know a fellow doesn’t have a chance 
to come home from a long trip like this every day, 
and we might as well make it something the folks 
won’t soon forget, my dear,” he beamed with boy¬ 
ish pride and satisfaction. 

“Money isn’t much good unless you use it,” he 
explained more soberly. “If I had come home 
broke I could have crawled in the back way, but 
since I’ve taken my chances in life and won, I’m 


306 Romances of the Rugged Road 

just going to show those people that I am not 
going to be selfish about it. I’m not afraid to 
spend a little.” 

“Yes, my dear,” she assured him coyly, “and I 
will try and do my share in helping you spend it.” 

His cup of pleasure was well-nigh full, but there 
were still one or two other things he wished to 
get for his mother, so he went out late in the eve¬ 
ning to see if he could pick them up. 

Some one must have spotted him during the day 
making some of his purchases and caught a 
glimpse of his well padded roll and were watching 
for him, for as he was hurrying along a rather 
dark place near the hotel, he was suddenly set 
upon by three roughs who tried to strong-arm 
him. Had they known their man they would not 
have taken that risk. He grabbed the wrist of 
a hand that poked a gun in his face, and gave it 
such a wrench that the fellow howled with pain 
and dropped the weapon to the ground. 

The other two sprang on him with an oath, say¬ 
ing, “We’ll help ya to spend that roll; fork it 
over to us now or we’ll knock your block off.” 
Dangity, however, was not in the forking mood. 
A sharp punch sent one of them reeling back¬ 
wards, and a backward kick caught the fellow who 
stood behind him in the midriff and he thought he 
had been hit by a mule. The way he sailed into 
that bunch soon put them out of commission, and 
they began to wonder if they had tackled Mike 
Gibbons or Jack Dempsey by mistake, and it 
wasn’t long until they were beating it while the 
beating was good. 

“I guess the gangling Kid that used to be afraid 
of his shadow isn’t a fellow to be fooled with now,” 


Rough Sailing 307 

he thought to himself as he brushed the dirt from 
his clothes, and rearranged his tie. 

“My stars alive! What has happened to you?” 
Clarissa cried when she saw blood trickling from 
a scratch on his face, and noted his flushed condi¬ 
tion. 

“Oh, nothing, nothing. Some of these small¬ 
town rubes thought they could scare me into giv¬ 
ing up my money, but I guess they won’t try that 
game in a hurry again,” he replied as calmly as 
an old maid at a wedding, as he gave her a kiss 
and told her not to get excited. 

“My, goodness! I don’t want anything to hap¬ 
pen to you now. What in the world would I do 
without you?” she exclaimed, to which he volun¬ 
teered no answer. She was later to answer that 
question herself. 


308 Romances of the Rugged Road 


CHAPTER XX 
Surprises for Everybody 

At four o’clock the little train pulled into Slow- 
town, just as it had done for as long as Dangity 
could remember. 

A big, handsome young man, accompanied by 
a well dressed, good-looking young lady, stepped 
from it, under the curious gaze of the small group 
of villagers, to whom the coming of the train was 
the principal daily event. 

A murmur of comment passed over these, for 
it was seldom a well groomed couple such as these 
came among them, for as yet no one had recog¬ 
nized Dangity. 

There was the drayman, the mailman, the clerk 
for the hotel, the old men, and boys and girls, even 
to the old bus, just as they had stood the day he 
left them. He picked them out one by one as 
their names reoccurred to him. 

It was left for the “cub” reporter on the local 
“Blatter,” who was sniffing around for news, to 
recognize in this nifty stranger, his old-time 
friend, and with a whoop and a jump, as though 
the earth had suddenly opened, he sprang to life 
and grabbed Dangity by the hand with both of 
his and hung to him like a long-lost brother. 

“Great fishhooks! Gosh almighty! Lookit 
who’s here, lookit who’s here! It’s Dangity Fay, 
Dangity Fay’s back! Dangity’s home!” he 


, Surprises for Everybody 309 

shrieked at the top of his voice, while the rest of 
the folks crowded around to welcome him. 

Many exclamations of astonishment and wonder 
passed from one to the other, as they looked him 
over from head to toe, and some of the more 
curious even felt of the texture of his new clothes. 
“He sure has arrived Til say!” some one ventured. 

When he introduced Clarissa as his wife, in a 
blushing, modest way, the welcome all turned 
upon her and she was given almost as much atten¬ 
tion as Dangity. 

“Mrs. Fay!” the reporter yelled. “Mrs. Dangity 
Fay? My, won’t our paper be full of news this 
week! What do you know about that? Gee- 
whiz, Dangity’s gone and got married too, eh!” 
When the several large trunks were piled off onto 
the truck the expressman almost died of apoplexy. 

“Good Lord! Just lookit all o’ them trunks! 
Why that’s more’n lots o’ them show troupes hes, 
the hull blame company of ’em. Yes, sir; the hull 
blame company wouldn’t hev as many trunks as 

that!” he sputtered away as though this were 

. 

something beyond the grasp of his imagination. 

The little group would hardly let either of them 
move, they clung about them so closely. Besides 
all of these who were present, there were others 
whom Dangity would have been delighted to see. 
They would have been the first ones to greet him, 
too, had they known of his coming. 

He could scarcely hold back the excited friends 
from running ahead and spilling the news, but 
he had warned them that he wanted the pleasure 
of surprising his folks, so they allowed them to 
walk alone up the back street that led to the little 
home near the school. 


310 Romances of the Rugged Road 

He walked right in at the front door without 
knocking and left Clarissa standing in the hall¬ 
way, while he pushed on in to surprise the folks. 
There was no one in the front room, so he walked 
on back into the kitchen and hung up his hat on 
the old peg, just as he had done for years. His 
mother sat by the window knitting and hardly 
looked up, thinking it was some other member 
of the family, but when he said '‘hello” in his 
usual tone she leaped to her feet and grabbed 
him in her arms as she cried. 

“Why, it’s Dangity! It’s Dangity, my long-lost 
boy! I been a prayin’ fer you all these years and 
I knowed you’d come, I knowed you’d come!” she 
kept repeating as she clung to him. 

“Why, mother, are you going crazy?” he ex¬ 
claimed as he saw her tears and noticed her care¬ 
worn face. 

“No, I’m not crazy, but I am nearly worried to 
death about you, and now to see you looking so 
well and fine is more than I can bear.” 

All this time Clarissa was standing in the hall 
listening to the commotion going on inside, until 
Dangity remembered her and said, “I’ve got a 
friend outside I brought with me, mother.” 

“Why, bring him in, bring him in!” she urged 
eagerly. “Don’t leave him standing out there.” 

So he brought Clarissa, who was plainly agi¬ 
tated. “It isn’t a him, it’s a her,” he blundered 
confusedly, as his mother stood in the middle of 
the floor with her mouth open, but speechless, 
until both Dangity and Clarissa began to laugh 
and he found his tongue sufficiently to stammer, 
“Mother, allow me to introduce to you Mrs. Dan¬ 
gity Fay, my new wife!” 


311 


Surprises for Everybody 

The old lady was completely flabbergasted, so 
to speak; this was something more than she was 
prepared for, but she gave Clarissa a hearty wel¬ 
come, although Dangity thought he detected a 
look of disapproval pass over his mother’s face 
when she found out that they were married. How¬ 
ever, she set about making some supper, and if 
there was any real resentment toward Clarissa, 
she did not show it although, to tell the truth, she 
was thinking very hard about Jemima and won¬ 
dering how she, poor girl, would stand the news. 

She knew Jemima would be terribly crushed. 
All her hopes were centered in Dangity, and for 
him she had resolutely resisted every advance that 
had been made to her since he left. She planned 
to go and see her at the first opportunity and if 
possible try and comfort her. 

The news of his arrival spread over the town 
like a breath of wind. To this was always added 
the further news that “he has brung home a new 
wife with him, too, and you just ought to see how 
stuck up she is. My sakes, her clothes are some¬ 
thing awful!” and so on and so forth, until every 
one was talking about the new sensation. 

When this news reached Simon Junebug pour¬ 
ing over his accounts in his spider’s den at the 
rear of the bank, he was plainly excited—so much 
so that he closed his office and hurried out to get 
as much information as possible. 

Here was something that interested him. He 
was still thinking of that five hundred dollar draft 
and was anxious to know if there was any more 
back of it. 

Outside he found a hum of excitement and 
heard first one and then another tell about how 


312 Romances of the Rugged Road 

extravagantly both of the new arrivals were 
dressed, and of the great number of trunks they 
brought with them, which gossip by this time had 
filled with the most expensive clothes and gowns 
in the world. 

Simon did not remain long on the street; he was 
not feeling as well as usual, so he sought the seclu¬ 
sion of his own home. His early arrival was a 
surprise to Jemima and his wife. 

“What brings you home so early ?” both of them 
inquired at once. 

“Shucks! haven’t you folks heard the news?” 

“News!” Rachel gasped feverishly. “What 
news? What’s happened now? Anybody dead?” 

“No, thee ain’t anybuddy dead that I know uv, 
but thee might as well be!” he burst out impetu¬ 
ously. 

“Dangity Fay’s home,” he went on soberly. 

“Oh goodie, goodie!” Jemima cried, dancing 
around the room. “I knew he’d come; I told you 
he’d come home all right.” 

“Yes, he’s home, but he ain’t all right, by a 
jugful,” her father moaned. 

“You mean to tell me that anything’s happened 
to that dear boy, Simon Junebug?” Rachel ex¬ 
ploded anxiously. “Is he sick or something? 
Speak out and don’t stand there like a dummy 
looking at us.” 

“No, he isn’t sick. He’s just married, that’s all.” 

“Married!” Jemima and her mother gasped in 
the same breath. 

“That’s what I said, married; and he’s brung his 
wife home with him, too.” 

Rachel was plainly as disappointed as Simon 
was, and as for Jemima, she rushed at once up- 


Surprises for Everybody 313 

stairs to her own little room and threw herself 
on the bed, to have her little cry alone. 

Poor girl, it was indeed a cruel blow to her. 
In all of her imaginings about Dangity, she had 
never thought of his getting married. She 
thought his staunch declaration never to do so, 
until he had at least told her about it, was enough 
for her, but alas and alack! The shortcomings 
of human nature should have been given ample 
consideration in her reckonings, but they were 
not. Her fine dreams were all shattered and 
broken. Oh, what could she do? 

She upbraided him for being unfaithful, and 
mean, and everything else that she could think 
of, and then again she would argue that he was 
not to blame, that he knew nothing of her love 
for him and most likely never suspected it at all. 

There was no supper for her that night, and 
when Willie Gold called to take her to a concert 
she told her mother that she was not feeling well 
enough to go, and Willie asked in his jokingist 
manner if it was owing to Dangity's return that 
she was indisposed. 

The young man and his bride were the sensa¬ 
tion of Slowtown. “It’s lots better to live in a 
town where people used to know you, after you 
have made good, than it is to stay among 
strangers who never knew how poor you used to 
be,” he confided to Clarissa when they were talk¬ 
ing over the matter later. 

And then the presents! What a surprise they 
were to the happy recipients of them! When the 
big trunks were opened, the younger brothers and 
sisters were wild with delight, as present after 
present was handed out. 


314 Romances of the Rugged Road 

Poor kiddies! It was almost more than they 
could stand. Even mother could scarcely believe 
that the whole thing was not a dream, and she 
would awaken to a stern and bitter reality. When 
one has pinched along and counted every penny 
for years at a stretch, begrudging even the use 
of a two-cent stamp where a one might be made 
to do, what a relief it is to reach a place where 
the scrimping days are over—where one may take 
a big breath without fear of exhausting the pre¬ 
vailing supply of air, as it were, and where the 
sound of a step upon the porch does not send one 
peeking to the side window to see if it might be 
the minister instead of a bill-collector. It is only 
those who have gone through this experience who 
can appreciate when the days of plenty comes. 

It was only a day or two later when Simon was 
standing in the door of his bank that he saw some¬ 
thing which caused him to blink his eyes, and 
then remove his glasses to be sure that he saw 
correctly. It was the sight of a handsome, well 
dressed young man standing before him with a 
bag filled with papers and envelopes which he 
asked to have placed in his bank for safe-keeping. 
Old Simon rubbed his eyes, “Why, it’s Dangity 
himself,” he shrieked as he patted him soothingly 
on the shoulder. 

“Sakes alive, boy! You don’t mean to say that 
all of this stuff is your’n, do you?” he chuckled 
softly as Dangity spread them out upon the coun¬ 
ter, and he noted their character. 

“Yes, it’s all mine, every dollar of it, and I got 
lots more like it,” he said slowly with an evident 
tremor of pride in his voice. 


Surprises for Everybody , 315 

“By cracky, then, thee ain’t no flies on you, my 
boy,” he gloated approvingly. 

“Reckon if you hadn’t a fetched a wife along 
with you, there’d a been a plenty of likely lookin’ 
ones here to pick from,” he went on with what 
Dangity thought was a touch of reproach in his 
remarks. 

“Does seem like there are more friends here 
than I thought I had. If I’d a come home broke, 
though, I wonder how many there’d a been then.” 

“I reckon I know some that believed in you, 
don’t matter whether you’d a made anything or 
not, yes I do,” Simon assured him, thinking no 
doubt of how stubborn Jemima had been all these 
years. 

“Do you really think so?” Dangity inquired 
soberly. 

“I don’t think so, I know it!” the old man re¬ 
plied firmly. “I know it, sir!” 

When Simon went home that evening it was to 
rail and storm about how foolish that Fay boy 
had been to go and get married so young, and 
when he told of his day’s deposit Rachel was so 
warmed up over the whole affair that she could 
not eat any supper. In fact Jemima seemed to be 
the least concerned now of the family; the first 
burst of grief ending in resignation, she had be¬ 
come reconciled to the cruel edicts of fate. 

The very next day Mrs. Junebug called to see 
Dangity’s mother, a thing she had not done for 
months. That is, she said she came for that pur¬ 
pose, but his mother suspected that she came to 
see her daughter-in-law, and of course Rachel 
could not neglect an open duty like this. 

When she came home in the evening after see- 


316 Romances of the Rugged Road 

ing Dangity, and had noted how tall and handsome 
he had grown and had listened to his mother tell 
of some of the daring escapdes he had gone 
through, she fully agreed with her husband that 
he had made a terrible mistake in marrying so 
young, and throwing away so many good chances. 

There was a feeling akin to despair in the whole 
Junebug household when it began to be fully 
known as to how rich Dangity really was. Simon 
was so indisposed that for two whole days he was 
compelled to remain away from his office, some¬ 
thing which he had not done since he went into 
business, and Rachel was compelled to miss an 
important meeting of the Improvement Club, 
where it was more than likely the conversation 
would revolve around the subject of greatest in¬ 
terest. 

But Jemima was really brave. It was impos¬ 
sible for her to entirely conceal her disappoint¬ 
ment, but she tried to act as though she did not 
really care, although her heart was breaking, and 
she was really passing through the dark valley of 
despair. 

Dangity was not close with his money. More 
than one poor family were made to share in his 
good fortune. Working quietly, but effectively 
nevertheless, he did much to make others happy. 
He and his wife soon became the most popular 
couple in town and easily the most talked about. 
To the usual crowd waiting one evening in front 
of the old post-office, old Justice Frost made this 
comment as he stroked his long grey beard, 

“It’s wonderful what that Fay boy turned out ta 
be through leavin’ home and takin’ chances,” and 
then he added with a wise shake of his head just 


317 


Surprises for Everybody 

as he had done years before, “You cain’t never 
tell be the looks of a frog how fer he’s agoin’ to 
jump; no siree, you cain’t tell,” and the same 
row of heads went on nodding their approbation. 

Dangity had been home several days before 
Jemima and he met. She tried to avoid him, as 
though she did not wish to dampen his enjoyment 
of the old scenes. 

Altogether it was rather an embarrassing meet¬ 
ing, for try as she would she could not keep back 
her disappointment, but she smiled even through 
her tears. She thought the world of him, and 
to lose him when he seemed the nearest was a 
hard bereavement, and yet she was glad that he 
had made such a success in the world and that he 
was apparently so very happy. He on the other 
hand was altogether unaware of the blasted 
hopes that his strange romance of the sea had 
left in its path. He had not taken her as seriously 
as she had taken him, and so he went on weaving 
the romance of adventure about his own life, little 
thinking that he was casting a mantel of gloom 
over another. If we only knew some things, how 
differently we would act. 

But she proved herself to be absolutely unsel¬ 
fish, for when she met him she wished him well 
and congratulated him on getting such a fine wife, 
but the old-time spirit in her compelled her to 
tease him just a little. 

“I thought you was the fellow whom no one 
was ever going to rope or brand until you arrived 
at your destination!” she whispered accusingly as 
she pointed her finger at him, half in jest and all 
in earnest. 


318 Romances of the Rugged Road 

“Well, I guess I did get roped all right,” he 
stammered, looking mighty guilty. 

“But as far as I know I'm not branded yet,” he 
continued more soberly, as he caught a sorrowful 
expression flit across her face. She looked into 
his frank, open face for a minute and then taking 
his big hand in her own she said, 

“Well, Dangity, if no one has branded you yet 
I’ll do that myself, and if I had some way of mak¬ 
ing it stick, I would brand you with a big ‘B’ 
which means the BEST Boy who ever lived!” She 
tried hard to smile but in spite of all her efforts, 
the big tears showed in her eyes. 

This was such a surprise to Dangity that he 
didn’t have a word to say for a few moments, 
until he collected his wits and blurted out, “I 
don’t know whether I deserved being roped or not, 
but I am certain I shall never be worthy of carry¬ 
ing that brand.” 

As he looked into her eyes and sensed the tone 
of disappointment in her words, he realized in that 
short space of time that she had kept a place in 
her heart for him, and he was painfully grieved 
when he saw that she had taken his promise liter¬ 
ally and at its full value, while he had lightly 
passed it up. 

It was his first genuine consciousness that she 
was in earnest—that she really and truly cared. 
What could he do? It was too late now to make 
any alterations. As far as they were concerned 
“the die was cast”; there was no way to mend 
matters now. As far as each of them knew, their 
destiny was sealed, and yet something was soon 
to happen which would change the whole course 
of events. 


Surprises for Everybody 319 

There were at least two people happy that Dan- 
gity had sense enough to marry Clarissa “when 
he had the chance,” as they expressed it, and they 
lost no time in congratulating him on his good 
fortune, and that was Willie and Ted. 

Secretly happy at the turn of affairs, each of 
them renewed his efforts to obtain the prize, now 
that the first choice had been eliminated. 

When the first burst of sorrow and disappoint¬ 
ment was over, Rachel, ever with an eye to having 
her way, had a talk with Jemima over the situa¬ 
tion, and strongly advised her to consent to Ted's 
advances and in this way forestall any plans that 
her father and Willie might be cooking up. Jemi¬ 
ma was not in the humor to entertain any proposi¬ 
tion whatever just now, but she did promise to 
be more friendly to Ted, especially as she liked 
him the better of the two. 

It was not long until the news was spread 
around that Ted and Jemima were engaged, and 
the old town accepted the rumor cheerfully, as 
they considered it a good match. To lend color 
to this announcement Rachel accompanied the two 
young people on a sightseeing trip to Boston, 
which was arranged by Rachel with the idea of 
taking Jemima's mind off of the present unpleas¬ 
ant situation. It was all settled when they came 
back, at least as far as rumor was concerned. 


320 Romances of the Rugged Road 


CHAPTER XXI 
The Skipper’s Knot Slips 

Although Dangity and Clarissa were truly and 
legally married, since the old skipper had full 
power to act, under the laws of our country, there 
was rough weather ahead for them. 

Their cup of bliss was in danger of being tip¬ 
ped over before they had more than tasted its 
contents. It was destined to be dashed from their 
eager hands by a strong and ruthless individual 
who thought only of his own cherished plans, and 
their lips were to quaff of the wormwood and the 
gall of blasted hopes. 

When Clarissa arrived in New York, she sent 
a message to her father in California as follows: 
“Dear Dad, have reached New York safely. Was 
married en route. Am on my way to my new 
home at Slowtown, Maine. Your Daughter, 
Clarissa Maud Fay. ,, 

Her father, who was a burly, hot-headed 
rancher, of Scotch descent, happened to be away 
from home for a few days, and so it was about 
two weeks before he got hold of this message. 
But, oh boy! when it did reach him he flew all to 
pieces, so to speak. He fumed and he swore, 
threatening all sorts of dire calamities upon his 
daughter, the man who had stolen her, the man 
who had married them, and upon every one con- 


321 


The Skipper s Knot Slips 

nected with the wedding. He even threatened to 
have the captain discharged from the employ of 
the steamship company, and many other such dire 
things were on his list of executions. 

Of course he was entitled to some sympathy, for 
he had set great store by this lovely daughter of 
his, and to have her pick up with some stranger 
was not a pleasant message for her parents. 

That romantic streak in his daughter, however, 
had been inherited from this same father, for he 
had grabbed her mother off the prize table in 
much the same fashion, when he was younger. 
But old folks often forget that they were ever 
young. 

He rushed into the house when he received the 
news and nearly threw her mother into a fit, the 
way he raved and carried on. With his stubborn 
mind made up to leave no stone unturned, nor 
means unused, to have the marriage annulled, he 
set about his purpose with a vengeance. Clarissa 
being the only girl in the family, both her parents 
had their minds set on giving her a great musical 
career when she should graduate from the eastern 
school. 

Her father had a close friend in New York to 
whom he sent a hurry-up message, asking him to 
have her taken into custody and also if possible 
to have the marriage annulled, thinking no doubt 
to shut off any claim on his estate by whatever 
rapscallion she had picked up with. 

This could well be done because she was still 
just under the legal age of eighteen. Included in 
the message were instructions to have her re¬ 
turned to California at once if they found her. 

This is how it happened that Dangity and his 


322 Romances of the Rugged Road 

young bride had scarcely settled down to enjoy 
the peace and quietude of the little town, when 
three strange men appeared on the streets one 
day and asked where Mrs. Fay lived. 

Dangity had gone into the country to look at 
a large farm which he was thinking of turning 
into a stock ranch when they arrived, so there was 
no one at home to meet them but Clarissa and his 
mother. 

The leader of the party, a well built and also 
well bred man, went to the door and asked for 
Mrs. Fay, but when Dangity’s mother answered he 
asked if there wasn't another Mrs. Fay. When 
Clarissa came out he asked her if she wasn’t Miss 
Weatherspoon. 

“Well, yes—that used to be my name before, 
well—before I was married, but who are you and 
what do you want?” she inquired anxiously. 

“We have been sent here under orders from 
your father, who is a friend of mine, to place you 
under arrest, if need be, and to take you home 
to your parents in California,” he replied slowly 
and quietly. 

Poor Clarissa. She sank into a chair in the 
front room and covered her face with her hands 
and burst into tears. As the horror of her situa¬ 
tion pressed more fully upon her, she stormed 
and protested with all her might. His mother 
tried to intercede for her, but to no avail. The 
men were obdurate and would brook no inter¬ 
ference. 

Here she had been married some three weeks 
or more, and now to be torn ruthlessly from the 
arms of her loving husband, and without a mo¬ 
ment’s warning, and all because of the whim of 


323 


The Skipper s Knot Slips 

an angry father, was more than she could bear. 

“The old fool!” she screamed, “if I ever get 
back to California I’ll kill him! If he thinks he 
can boss me around he is badly mistaken!” she 
raved savagely, in her despair. 

But no amount of raving could soften the hearts 
of the men who were waiting for her to get ready 
and come. 

“You better quiet down and come along peace¬ 
ably now, because it will save both of us a lot 
of trouble, and the neighbors won’t know all about 
it either,” the leader tried to persuade her. 

It was lucky for them and unlucky for her that 
Dangity wasn’t around, and she told them so. It 
so happened that he would not be back until the 
following day, but the men had a warrant for his 
arrest also on the charge of abduction, but since 
he was not present they agreed that if Clarissa 
would go quietly they would not press the matter 
against him. 

It was just as well for them that they did not 
try to. There would have been bloodshed and riot 
such as this peaceful community had not seen for 
ages if they had, for it is not at all likely that he 
would have submitted to arrest without a fight. 

Clarissa moaned and bewailed her lot, but there 
seemed to be nothing left for her to do but to sub¬ 
mit, for after the first outburst of temper was 
over she was in a daze—nothing mattered. She 
thought only of what the future might develop. 

Her love for Dangity prompted her to make any 
sacrifice in order to spare him. 

Some of the villagers saw her drive away with 
the men in the car, but beyond a trifling amount 
of speculation as to who they were, and what they 


324 Romances of the Rugged Road 

were doing in Slowtown, no one had the slightest 
suspicion as to what was actually taking place. 
When they did wake up, what a howl they made! 

Dangity's mother was the only one who knew, 
and while the suddenness of the thing over¬ 
whelmed her, and she felt deeply for both Clarissa 
and Dangity in their grief, still in the deeper 
recesses of her heart there were traces of a secret 
joy that she could not repress. She was thinking 
of a possible turn in the current of events which 
had been moving all too fast for her poor, slow 
mind, of late. 

When Dangity came home the following eve¬ 
ning his mother was watching for him, but he 
brushed past her and went on into the house, call¬ 
ing out, “Clarissa, Clarissa,” but received no an¬ 
swer. He rushed around looking everywhere that 
he could imagine her to be hiding, and not finding 
her, he asked his mother in surprise, “Where is 
she gone, anyhow? Is she out somewhere?” 

“Oh, my poor boy, how shall I tell you about 
it!” she moaned. 

“What, mother? What is it? Speak quick, 
has anything happened to her?” he asked ner¬ 
vously, a scowl playing upon his face. 

“She's gone!” his mother faltered, looking into 
his eyes. 

“Gone! What do you mean, gone? Gone 
where?” He yelled so loud that he frightened 
her. 

“Some men came here last night and took her 
away. Said they had orders from her father to 
arrest her and take her back to Californy. Said 
as how she was under age, and that they would 
arrest you, too, if they couldn't get her to go,” 


The Skipper s Knot Slips 325 

his mother managed to stammer out incoherently 
as best she could. 

Dangity was white with rage and chagrin. As 
he paced back and forth and raved and swore he 
almost frightened his mother out of her wits. 

“It’s a mighty good thing for them cattle that 
I wasn’t around when they came, you can bet your 
bottom dollar on that,” he stormed. 

“This little friend of mine would have been on 
the job,” he snapped savagely as he drew a shin¬ 
ing automatic from his pocket and caressed it 
fondly. His mother caught his arm and begged 
him to put it away. 

“Why, Dangity, I’m afraid you have become 
terribly wicked since you been away among them 
rough men,” she upbraided him reproachfully. 

“Guess it’s because I’ve seen so much of this 
stuff if I have, mother,” he consoled her in a more 
subdued tone, as he slipped the weapon back into 
his pocket. 

Later he confided to his mother that he didn’t 
care so much about himself, but he was all broken 
up over the plight of poor Clarissa. “It will break 
her dear heart, for she sure thought a pile of 
me,” he vowed. 

“Yes, what a terrible thing for that dear girl 
to be torn from you so cruelly! I could have 
killed those men myself if I had been given half 
a chance,” she admitted when they had recovered 
their composure. 

What in the world was he to do now? He had 
no idea where to go to look for her. He could not 
tell whether they had taken her to New York or 
Boston or where, for that matter. There seemed 
to be nothing to do but to wait and see if she 


326 Romances of the Rugged Road 

would send him any word regarding her where¬ 
abouts. 

It was impossible to long keep the secret of 
Clarissa’s absence, for when she did not return in 
a few days people began asking questions, and as 
time went on and still there was no sign of her, 
and the questions were unanswered, the tongues 
of the gossips began to wag and people began to 
ask each other what had become of the young 
bride. 

Slowtown now had a mystery all its own. 
Dangity had taken a run down to New York in 
the hopes that he might pick up some informa¬ 
tion as to what had become of her, and his ab¬ 
sence only added to the mystery. 

He succeeded, after several attempts, in get¬ 
ting in touch with her father by wire, and learned 
from him that she was on her way home; and 
was also very curtly informed that if he set any 
value upon his life it would not be healthy for him 
to attempt to reach her. This only made him 
determined to start after her at once, but after 
sober second thought he changed his mind and 
decided that it would likely make trouble for both 
of them if he did so, so he finally gave up the 
notion. 

“The game isn’t worth the candle and it will 
mean a peck of trouble all my life if I get mixed 
up in a fight with her folks, so I’ll let her go,” he 
concluded philosophically, although he would have 
liked to have taken a good poke at her beastly 
father, just on general principles. 

After waiting around in hopes of getting some 
word from Clarissa herself, and receiving none, 


The Skipper s Knot Slips 327 

he returned to quiet old Slowtown to mourn and 
wait, disappointed and broken in spirit. 

The cub reporter was very insistent on getting 
a news item for his paper when he caught Dangity 
on the platform on his return, but he pushed him 
aside abruptly and hurried home before any one 
could intercept him. 

The whole town was on its toes. Nothing of 
the sort had ever happened there before. 
Dangity and his affairs were the sole topic of 
conversation. The big city papers got wind of 
the story and sent men to write it up. They got 
no satisfaction from Dangity, but there were 
others who could put an abundance of coloring 
into it, and among them was our astute little 
friend, Willie Gold. 

Even the preacher in the local church referred 
to the dark and somber cloud which rested upon 
the community. He of all the gloom-spreaders 
was the only one who spread a ray of light over 
the darkness, by declaring in all confidence that 
“every cloud has a silver lining,” referring no 
doubt to the fact that there were others who 
might be obtained. 

What a blessing the ministry is. How many 
hearts they have cheered! What a benediction 
to the bereaved and distressed. 

When at last the news became general that 
Clarissa had been spirited away by her father and 
would not likely ever return to Slowtown, and 
that her father had taken steps to annul the mar¬ 
riage, Simon Junebug took a new lease on life and 
likewise on hope. 

He arranged to have Dangity take dinner with 
him and spend the evening at his home. Simon's 


328 Romances of the Rugged Road 

strategy was almost transparent. He was very 
friendly, very courteous. In fact, it was all that 
Rachel could do by frowns and nodding of her 
head to keep him from openly espousing the cause 
of his darling daughter right at the dinner table. 

Rachel’s own calm heart was in a flutter, and it 
was some task for her to appear unconcerned and 
to keep the conversation along safe lines. 

In fact she was becoming infatuated with 
Dangity herself, and even began to wish that she 
were making her choice over again, and she was 
very sorry the rumor had gotten such a wide 
circulation about Jemima and Ted being engaged. 

When Willie and Ted saw the turn events were 
taking they were both very much perturbed. This 
idea of Clarissa not coming back was not good 
news to them, for Willie was still an ally of 
Simon’s and Ted knew better than any one else 
that that promise of Jemima was not yet one 
that he could enforce, for she might allege undue 
influence as a means of obtaining it. 

“Seems like if someone came along and kid¬ 
naped my wife I’d follow them to the ends of the 
earth, and nothing would ever stop me either until 
I got her back again!” Willie blustered when 
Simon told him the latest news. 

“Well, if there was only one girl in the world, 
I don’t know as I’d blame you much, but when 
there’s plenty of others just as good, seems like 
a fellow hadn’t ought to chase quite so far,” old 
Simon chuckled shrilly, a thing he never did un¬ 
less something tickled his fancy hugely, and he 
was in a very cheerful mood just now, for him. 

“I don’t think that fellow has very much nerve, 
or he wouldn’t give her up as quick as that any- 


The Skipper s Knot Slips 329 

how/' Willie went on, not noticing Simon’s re¬ 
marks. 

“Nerve! Say, that boy’s got more nerve than 
you and me put together, but he’s got brains, too, 
to go with it, and besides he’s young and don’t 
have to give up lookin’ yet a while. 

“There’s lots of girls will be glad to get him,” 
he whiffed grimly, “just lots of ’em.” 

A little later Ted Strong met Jemima and 
Dangity talking on a corner of a shady street one 
evening, right near where he had pushed Dangity 
off the sidewalk. 

What would he do now? His jealousy of Dan¬ 
gity was greater now than then, but so was 
Dangity. He had no love for him, though, and 
soon manifested his dislike by stopping in front 
of them and turning his attentions towards 
Jemima, as if to ignore Dangity entirely. He 
sensed the discourtesy, and asked Ted if he re¬ 
membered the incident of a few years ago. 

“I should think you ought to remember it bet¬ 
ter than I would, you’re the fellow who did the 
running,” Ted shot back at him, sarcastically. 

“Yes, I did run that night, but I got over run¬ 
ning from bullies long ago,” he retorted hotly. 

“Oh, is that so? Well, maybe you did, but 
you’ll have to show me that you’ve got any more 
nerve now than you had then,” Ted growled, ner¬ 
vously. 


330 


Romances of the Rugged Road 



CHAPTER XXII 

All Things Come to Those Who Wait 

Jemima began to get frightened at the bellig¬ 
erent attitude of her friends and she urged Ted 
to forget the past and be good friends, but he 
was offended because she took time to talk to 
Dangity, and his pride ran away with his judg¬ 
ment. On the other hand, Dangity had never 
gotten over the snub which Ted gave him, and 
he was willing to get a chance to even up the 
score, a thing he had vowed a thousand times to 
do when he got back, so it was no wonder that 
he came back at Ted vigorously. 

“If you want to know how much nerve I have, 
just try to do the same trick that you did once, 
over again, you’ll find I may not have any more 
nerve now than I had then, but I’ve got a lot 
more beef on my bones and, you big bully you, 
don’t blow too much or I’ll wipe the sidewalk with 
you right now!” 

Ted was not afraid of him and dared Dangity 
to touch him. The dare didn’t stand long, for 
Dangity gave him a shove that sent him spinning. 
Jemima grabbed his arm and exclaimed, “Oh, 
dear, don’t start fighting again; you boys are two 
silly fools.” 

Dangity pushed her gently away as Ted made 
a jump and hit him on the jaw. It was a stinging 


All Things Come to Those Who Wait 331 

blow, but it only spurred him on, for he came 
back with a punch that caused Ted to double up 
with pain. Ted was clever, but he was no match 
for Dangity when it came to endurance and sheer 
strength, and he was soon very sadly mauled and 
mussed up. 

He admitted that he was whipped, and begged 
Dangity's pardon for his insolence, which was 
freely given. When the news went around that 
he had forced Ted to holler “enough I” he was the 
white-haired boy again, and felt that he could now 
look the world once more in the face. 

Rachel was now all for Dangity, and when some¬ 
one at the Improvement Club suggested that he 
should wait at least a year before calling his en¬ 
gagement off she protested vehemently, “I can't 
see why he should be bound to her all that time— 
he had nothing to do with her leaving him." 

Soon after Ted had his run-in with Dangity, he 
and Jemima were sitting on the veranda, when 
the conversation turned upon the topic of the day. 

“I know I'd consider myself bound to wait a 
year at least, don't you think so, Jemima?" he 
insisted stoutly. 

“Why, I couldn't say, Ted, as to that; it de¬ 
pends upon how much both of them cared, I 
should say," she ventured indifferently. 

“Well, I feel sorry for the girl just the same. 
It spoils all her chances with someone else," he 
returned tersely. 

“But she isn't really a widow if the marriage is 
annulled, is she?" Jemima came back at him 
quickly. 

“No, she isn’t exactly a widow, but she has 
been married once, and that always makes a dif- 


332 Romances of the Rugged Road 

ference with some people,” Ted finished haughtily 
as he rose to go. 

“Little things of that sort shouldn’t really make 
any difference when they can’t be helped, though,” 
she insisted, as they bid each other goodnight. 
He was huffed because Jemima always seemed 
willing to excuse Dangity. 

I suppose it was inevitable that Jemima and 
Dangity should meet often. 

There seemed to have sprung up an irresistible 
desire for each other’s company of late. True, 
there were reasons why they should keep away 
from each other until certain matters were defi¬ 
nitely settled at least, and Dangity was free 
again, or permanently reunited with Clarissa. 

But can the moth resist the attraction of the 
flame? Is it not rather drawn towards it? 

Jemima was placed in a difficult position. It 
would not look well for her to be too free with nor 
too anxious about Dangity, even though she did 
think a lot of him and the chances were that his 
new wife would not return to him. It was but 
natural that she should be filled with a new hope. 

When they were alone she could not resist the 
temptation to tease him about being a grass- 
widow, or something of that kind. 

“It certainly puts you in a peculiar position,” 
she told him one day when they were sitting on 
the bank of the old mill-pond. “You don’t know 
whether you’re still roped or not, do you?” 

“Yes, it does look as though the hitch has 
slipped, but I am going to wait and find out for 
sure that it has before I give up hopes. You 
know I promised to stick to her as long as we both 


All Things Come to Those Who Wait 333 

lived, and I’m not going to break my word until 
she says the deal is off, or I get tired waiting,” 
he added, so as to leave some room for changing 
his mind if necessary. 

Some weeks later the long-looked-for letter 
from Clarissa arrived. The postmaster eyed him 
curiously as he watched him take it out of his box 
where he had so carefully placed it. Dangity did 
not open it until he was alone in his own room. 
It stated that since her parents objected so much 
to him because he was not a cultured fellow, or a 
product of the schools, and also because they had 
made other arrangements for her, therefore she 
was willing to release him from all promises and 
obligations to her, as perhaps they were not suited 
to each other anyway. She reaffirmed her love 
for him and her admiration for his manly ways, 
and asked him to forgive her for having taken 
such a hold upon his affections as to cause him 
to break his high resolve. 

She also sent her best wishes and congratula¬ 
tions to Jemima. 

When he came and showed the letter to his 
mother, she threw her arms around him and cried, 
“God be praised! Good luck to you, my boy! The 
angel of the Lord encamps round about His childer 
all the time. I was praying that Providence would 
help you and Jemima both out, and it has.” 

“Help Jemima and me out, mother! Great 
Scott! What in the world are you talking about ? 
Are you fooling me?” 

“I mean that that dear child has had her heart 
set on you ever since you went away, and it was 
a terrible disappointment to her when you fetched 
Clarissa home; yes, it was.” 


334 Romances of the Rugged Road 

“Now, mother, you don’t mean to tell me that 
Jemima really cared as much as that, do you?” 

“Yes, I do; and when others were running you 
down and saying that you had forsaken us all, 
and that you were no good anyway, and all that; 
she always stuck up for you, my boy. In fact her 
father has been trying this long time to make her 
marry Willie Gold, and her mother has been try¬ 
ing to do the same for Ted Strong, but Jemima 
just kept waiting for you.” 

“Goodness, mother, I feel as mean as a pirate 
for taking up with any other girl when there was 
such a fine girl as Jemima waiting right here for 
me all the time. But, poor Clarissa, somehow I do 
feel sorry for her. Maybe Providence had some¬ 
thing to do with our affairs after all.” 

“You may be thankful you got out of that 
scrape as well as you did, but it was your mother’s 
prayers that done it.” 

“You’re the best mother in the world,” Dangity 
cried as he held her in his arms and even gave her 
a kiss; “even Judge Frost thinks so now, doesn’t 
he, mother?” he concluded with a wink, as he saw 
her blush. 

“You better give some of them to Jemima,” 
she laughingly told him; “she’s been waiting a 
long time for one of them, poor girl.” 

The following evening Dangity found it neces¬ 
sary to call on Simon on some business matters. 
He had told him that he would be up that eve¬ 
ning, but when he arrived he found that both he 
and Rachel had driven out in the country to look 
at a farm with Willie, and would not be home 
until late. For some reason Jemima had been 


All Things Come to Those Who Wait 335 

forced to remain, and he was thus compensated 
in some measure for the absence of the others. 

During the evening he remarked casually that 
he had received a letter from Clarissa. 

“You don’t say so! How in the world is she? 
Crying her eyes out, I suppose?” she inquired 
with a forced calmness. 

“Oh, she’s just fine. Intends to go to Europe 
soon,” he explained briefly. 

“Didn’t she say anything else ?” 

“Yes, she sent her best wishes to you, and 
so on.” 

“And so on? What do you mean by the so on 
part?” she plagued him, teasingly. 

“Well, she really sent you her congratulations, 
if you want to know all she said about you,” he 
laughed at her. 

“Her congratulations! What do you mean, con¬ 
gratulations ?” 

“I suppose she meant congratulations that you 
were to have a chance to spend more of your time 
with me,” he continued in a subdued emotion that 
was easily detected. 

“No, did she say anything like that?” 

“Well, she told me I was free to roam the range 
again. That she had taken her hitch off of me 
and that she released me from any and all obliga¬ 
tions to travel the road with her from now on. 
Don’t you feel sorry for a lone stray like me with 
no one to claim him?” he concluded, expectantly. 

“Well, you know I put a brand on you one day, 
and I guess that is there yet, isn’t it?” she in¬ 
quired shyly. 

“You can put any kind of a brand you like on 
me, Jemima. Anything you say goes with me 


336 Romances of the Rugged Road 

now,” he confided softly as he held her hand in his. 

“Oh, I’m not worthy of you, Dangity. You 
have grown just like I knew you would, so big 
and grand, while I have just stood still here in 
this poky little place without ever seeing any¬ 
thing. I knew you would grow away from me.” 

“Grow away from you! Say, sweetheart, it will 
keep me growing all my life to catch up to you,” 
he assured her meekly. 

They didn’t know what time it was when 
Simon and Rachel drove into the yard, but Dan¬ 
gity had already given her what his mother told 
him to, and a new contract had been signed and 
sealed in the good old-fashioned way. 

When Dangity went home that evening it was 
with a lighter heart than he had known for 
months. The next morning he confided to his 
mother that she was to have a new daughter-in- 
law; and that very day Mrs. Junebug called on 
her, her usually happy face all wreathed in smiles. 
The two talked long and earnestly, and many 
little details were there attended to. 

Simon was noticeably chipper and spry as he 
set out for the office, whistling a little tune that 
Rachel had not heard for years. 

That day he called on a tailor and had him take 
his measure for a new suit, “the very best stuff 
he had in stock,” he warned him, “and mind you, 
don’t have either the pattern or the cut too old, 
either.” 

“Looks like I might afford a new hat, too,” he 
muttered as he preened himself before the mirror. 
“Guess I’ll let Ma have this one for those Eskimo 
missionaries now,” he continued cheerfully. 

When the news filtered out that Dangity and 


All Things Come to Those Who Wait 337 

Jemima were engaged, and there were several 
sources from which this was possible, Slowtown 
was a hubbub of excitement. Rumors and con¬ 
jectures of every description were rampant as to 
how and where the great event would be cele¬ 
brated. Some were that it was to be in a big 
cathedral in New York, and other wild guesses 
were made. 

It was at first intended by Jemima that it 
should be held in the little church where she had 
gone since childhood, but as the time drew near, 
the preparations going on under the guiding 
genius of Rachel soon outgrew the meager propor¬ 
tions of this little place, and it was evident that 
this plan would have to be abandoned. Dangity 
finally settled the matter by suggesting that it be 
held on the big lawn surrounding the Junebug 
home. This proved to be a popular idea, except 
and almost, and the except was that Mrs. Fay 
thought there should be a more religious atmos¬ 
phere about it than would be possible out on the 
lawn. This last objection, however, was over¬ 
come by having the carpenters build a temporary 
altar and pulpit under a big spreading maple. 
These were so draped with flowers that they 
looked like a real snug little cloister. 

There never was such a wedding before nor 
since in the history of the county. People came 
in for miles around. Everyone wanted to get a 
glimpse of the popular groom and his charming 
bride, for they certainly were a picture. 

When the hour for the ceremony arrived every 
one was on the tip-toe of expectancy, including 
Dangity. 

The bride was simply but prettily arrayed—a 


338 Romances of the Rugged Road 

compromise between the extravagance of Rachel 
and the simplicity of Jemima, after many argu¬ 
ments on Rachel’s part that she would not be 
stunning enough for Dangity if she wasn’t decked 
out a little more, a fear that was entirely un¬ 
grounded. To fulfil a whim of Jemima’s, Dangity 
wore his best pair of riding-boots and his finest 
velvet suit, and he certainly made a handsome 
and picturesque groom. 

The flower girls, the ring bearer and the 
bridesmaids with the supporting gentry were 
sporting their best regalia. Nothing that could 
add charm and dignity to the occasion was 
omitted. 

The pastor of the local church was the gentle¬ 
man who tied the knot. Old Justice Frost re¬ 
marked as he finished the job, “I wonder if that 
knot will hold any better than the one the captain 
tied?” The little piece of paper that Dangity 
slipped into the good man’s hand at the close of 
the service caused his face to lighten up immense¬ 
ly. (The collections had been rather poor of late.) 

Simon was in his glory. He reminded one of 
a man who has made a rare bargain in the mar¬ 
ket. In his new clothes, even the oldest inhabitant 
could not remember when they had seen him look 
so young and dapper. 

As he bore Jemima proudly on his arm and 
presented her to Dangity, it was all he could do 
to keep from laughing right out in meeting, so 
overcome was he with joy, for he was seeing his 
life’s ambition realized, his only child safely and 
prosperously married. 

Dangity’s own folks were there, neatly and rich¬ 
ly dressed. His mother had not looked so happy 


All Things Come to Those Who Wait 339 

and care-free in twenty years or more. The folks 
were surprised to see her in company with Justice 
Frost, too. But the brothers and sisters were 
actually awestruck at the reckless expenditure of 
money. 

Ted Strong acted as best man, and even Willie 
Gold consented to be one of the groomsmen, by 
no means an easy role for either of them to play, 
I can assure you, but they were game. 

When the nuptials were completed every one 
crowded forward to greet the bride and to con¬ 
gratulate Dangity upon his rare good fortune. 
Jemima was nearly smothered with kisses. Rachel 
was in raptures, her happy face radiating sun¬ 
shine and good cheer, and even Simon was bowing 
and scraping like an attache of the King’s court; 
and shaking hands with every one until he wasn’t 
able to use his right arm for a week afterwards. 

Rachel was not only happy, but she was busy, 
for the wedding dinner was to follow at once. How 
can any one describe it ? To say that it was grand, 
or scrumptious, or sumptuous is only speaking of 
it in relative terms. Jolly, good-natured Mrs. Mil¬ 
ligan had also lent her aid for Dangity’s sake. It 
was spread out under the trees on the spacious 
lawn, and the whole countryside were there with 
their friends. 

It was certainly some feast. They are still talk¬ 
ing of it when they gather to rehearse the great 
events in the history of that county. 

It was the second wedding feast Dangity had 
been at and he was more experienced in those 
functions now. 

The dinner over, they drove away amid the 
shouts and the acclaim of friends to a nearby 


340 Romances of the Rugged Road 

town, where they took the train for a short honey¬ 
moon on the Atlantic coast. When this was over 
they returned to settle on a big ranch which Dan- 
gity had prepared near by. It soon became the 
mecca of all the young people in the community 
and a place to which Justice Frost often brought 
Dangity’s dear mother to visit him. 

As he and Jemima stood alone one evening on 
the veranda of the old house watching the sunset, 
she turned to him and said, “You’re not sorry 
the skipper’s hitch did slip now, are you dearie?” 

“Well, I should say not, but I was just wonder¬ 
ing what the old fellow would say if he knew it 
had,” he laughed merrily. 

“I don’t care what the old skipper nor any one 
else thinks or says about it, I just claim you were 
caught when you weren’t looking, that’s what I 
say.” 

“This last knot will hold forever, though, won’t 
it sweetheart?” he pleaded more earnestly. 

“I hope so, for it was tied in the right way; 
those irreligious ceremonies they have on a ship, 
or in a judge’s office, never did seem right to me, 
I’m glad we had ours the church way,” she spoke 
with a cheery confidence, the golden fruit of a 
clear conscience. 

“Well, I’m certainly glad you were so true and 
waited so long, it certainly took a lot of courage 
and patience to do that, when you knew what a 
green, unlikely looking kid I was when I left here.” 

“Yes, Dangity, but I knew that you had the 
grit and the ’gumption’ too to make a success and 
you would arrive someday, and I am sure you 
proved in all kinds of hard places that you had 
the stuff in you, if you ever got a chance to show 


All Things Come to Those Who Wait 341 

it.” She boldly proclaimed her undying faith in 
him. 

Later, when touring Italy, Dangity had a carv¬ 
ing of a young girl roping and branding a steer 
made for the mantelpiece of their home, as a wed¬ 
ding souvenir, and it stands there to this day. He 
lived to occupy a large and respected place in the 
community, but he never forgot the days of trial 
and hardship when he was plugging along at the 
rear of the procession, carrying water to the ele¬ 
phants, so to speak. It is not often folks reach 
the enchanted land of “dreams come true,” but 
here was a happy pair who did. 

The reason he made the grade was because he 
had the nerve and the initiative to launch out 
from the barren shore of untoward circumstances, 
and grit enough to keep on pegging away until 
he struck “the pay.” 

He made all of his friends happy, and later, 
when his mother married Justice Frost, he pro¬ 
vided a comfortable home for them. Yes, time 
and chance happen to all, but we must send our 
dream-ships out if we expect them to return again 
some day, but few have a faithful sweetheart like 
Jemima who is willing to wait their return. The 
romances of the Rugged Road are only for those 
who patiently and persistently seek them! 


THE END 












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